Everything Has Changed
by weaponofmasscreationn
Summary: 11th-grader Michigan is invisible, and good at it. But when the ex-boyfriend she can't quite forget and the school's resident mean girl start picking on a new student, her decision to help turns her world upside-down and might just change everything she ever thought she wanted... Highschool AU. Warning: light language and violent themes. Reviews are love!
1. Breathe

**_Heeeyyyyy guys, thanks for clicking! This is the second time this story has been posted due to revisions, and I think it's a bit better than it was previously. _**

**_I was inspired by Leslie the Sorceress and her story 'On My Own', which is also a high school AU, and which you should totally check out if you haven't already. Also check out her other story 'Breathe' which is almost the same as 'OMO' but not quite. They're very good._**

**_Anyway, I hope you like this enough to follow and review and all that jazz._**

**_I own all characters except the ones you recognize._**

**_Read on and please enjoy :)_**

* * *

I see your face in my mind as I drive away,  
Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way.  
People are people, and sometimes we change our minds.  
But it's killing me to see you go after all this time.

Music starts playin' like the end of a sad movie,  
It's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see.  
Cause it's tragedy and it'll only bring you down,  
Now I don't know what to be without you around.

And we know it's never simple, never easy.  
Never a clean break, no one here to save me.  
You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand,

And I can't breathe without you  
But I have to.  
Breathe without you  
But I have to.

'Breathe'- Taylor Swift

* * *

I think I'll start this story on a crisp, cold morning in July. Imagine, if you will, a shopping center. It's Saturday, so the place is jam-packed with people, all of them rushing in every direction, intent on getting where they want to go, whether it be to work or the movies or to grab a bargain in one of the many shops that cluster the plaza. The corridors and aisles are pulsing and noisy with hundreds of voices talking over the top of each other. The sea of people is overwhelming. Everyone is moving... well, almost everyone.

In the midst of all these people, a girl stands outside a shop- Sanity, to be exact- ignoring the crowd that moves around her like a river around a boulder, focused instead on a figure inside the shop. She stands there for a while, just staring, before the figure disappears behind a shelf and she's jolted away from the sight by one of the rushing people. Mussed hair, wide eyes, quick apologies; then both of them are off in different directions, and the girl is looking behind to make sure she didn't miss anything.

"Mich!"

She looks down to see a young girl with crossed arms and serious expression, tapping her foot.

"Mum's been looking everywhere for you!"

She looks behind again, nodding absently. "Yeah, ok." Her eyes widen as the figure she was looking at before emerges from the shop and walks across the crossway, and she starts to back away, hoping she won't be seen. Halfway across, he's met by someone else, someone who walks coolly out of Supre and lets herself be caught up in his arms, someone who makes the girl's shoulders sag and turn away. The two of them kiss for a minute, ignoring the dirty looks the people around give them, and the little girl points to them, wrinkling her nose.

"Hey, isn't that-"

"Yeah." She pushes the pointing hand away and sets the girl in the other direction. "Yeah, it is."

The little girl rolls her eyes and grabs her hand. "Oh come on, you're not-"

"No, I'm not," she interrupts, but still she stands there watching the couple as they kiss and smile and talk and tease until they decide to go, walking down the center arm-in-arm and still she watches, until they're out of sight and the little girl is truly impatient.

"You're pathetic," she sighs, and pulls her away. The girl lets herself be taken, her mind occupied somewhere else entirely.

* * *

Another morning. The sun shines through the worn-out curtains of a small bedroom in a large-ish house in a small Australian town, illuminating a lumpy shape under the covers. On the nearby bedside table, a small electronic tablet vibrates, and a white arm slowly feels its way out of its warm cocoon, picks up the object, and retreats back whence it came.

I powered up my device, the bright light shocking my sleepy eyes under the stifling darkness of the quilt, and found the 'recent updates' tab down the bottom of the screen. Two likes and one comment on Intsagram and one Kik message. I tapped the Kik symbol.

'R U awake?'

_Em_. I yawned as I typed in a reply.

'I am now.'

'Wat r u doin?'

I smiled and shook my head. 'Looking 4 a dictionary.'

'Y?'

'So i can thro it in ur face.'

'wateva.' A pause as the words above the message read _Emma Smith is typing_. 'I tht u said u were goin 2 help me make a costume?'

'Soz i forgot.' I went to my homepage and sent two messages, then returned to find a new one.

'sum frend u truned out 2 B. i'm freaking out here.'

'its not until the end of the month.'

'im still freaking out.'

Two reply messages appeared, to which I clicked the button 'add people' and selected two names. 'Bex and Dez r here.'

'hi guys.'

'morning.'

'is it morning already?'

'afraid so.'

I left the chat room then, pulling up Pinterest instead. Monitoring the back-and-forth messages as they pinged into my updates box, I browsed through pictures of formal dresses and hairstyles- the formal wasn't until next year, but it didn't hurt to plan ahead- until I got a message that was obviously meant for me.

It was from Dez. 'hey mich.'

'what.'

'i saw P yesterday.'

My relatively happy mood dropped like a lead balloon, the way it always did when a certain name came up. 'were you the plaza?'

'yeah, he came in to maccas with E. they r disgusting together.'

I thought back to the sight I had witnessed yesterday and my stomach churned. 'i kno. i saw them 2. PDA much?'

'as if we don't have enough of that school.'

'ugh i kno. i hate them so much.'

'careful, ur starting 2 sound a bit jelly.'

'of who, Esme?'

'maybe.'

'plz tell me ur jk.' I was not, under any circumstances, jealous of Esme Azarola. Not one bit.

I should probably tell you who all these people are before I go any further. This Esme who I am _soooo_ not jealous of? She's the meanest mean girl you will ever meet. You know all those cliche blonde chicks in the movies? She's _waaay_ worse. She's gorgeous, of course- tanned, perfect skin; soulful, dark eyes; the longest, curliest brown hair I have ever seen; and a slender, toned body that was the inspiration to pretty much every girl in the school. She was Spanish, or Italian, or some European nationality, and her mother was filthy rich- well, compared to everyone else, anyway. We didn't live in the richest neighborhood, here or in the last place we had been. I had known her since primary school, so I think I'm pretty qualified to say that you did _not_ want to get in Esme Azarola's bad books. I don't know how she did it, but that girl had a way of making your life a living nightmare if she didn't like you. She was queen bee and was not to be crossed.

And there was no reason, absolutely no reason at all, for me to be jealous of her. I mean she did have awesome hair and was dating my ex-boyfriend of 9 months, but I sure as hell wasn't jealous.

Ah, the ex. The mysterious 'P'. His name was Phoebus James, and we had gone out for about two months at the end of 10th grade. He was blonde and tall and adorable, and I had been crushing on him for nearly a year and a half when the girls I hung out with at that time decided to ask him out for me. They thought it was about time I got a boyfriend and 'grew up a bit', and being the impressionable, lovesick 15 year old I was, I agreed. He was my first real crush (unless you counted a brief obsession with an older boy when I was 12) and I thought he was wonderful. Of course I never thought he could be anything other than sweet, shy, nerdy Phoebus, the new boy who had no real status yet, so I happily entered the relationship without thinking of what the future might bring.

I think you can guess the rest of the story. Two months of happiness, then it ended one warm summer morning before school. I heard the news via my friends, one of whom had being messaging him the night before and was told that he wanted to end it but didn't know how. She had volunteered to tell me and that was that. It was over. He had broken my heart, and I had never gone out with a boy again. Even now, 9 months later, when some of my friends were easily going from boy to boy, I was still prone to occasional flashbacks and nostalgia for the only boy I had ever given my heart to. Pathetic, I know, but that's just the way I am. I love hard and fall hard, and I take forever to heal.

But I still wasn't jealous.

'i'm jk.' came the reassuring message, and I sighed with relief. 'so what were u doing yesterday?'

'helping mum find some shoes. and i found some cat ears for Em.'

'cool.'

A new message popped up, this one from Em. 'where r u guys?'

'im here,' i typed, shifting around under the covers. It was starting to get hard to breathe now, but I wasn't ready to enter the cold morning air just yet. 'just saying that i found u some cat ears yesterday.'

'wat do they look like?'

'black and pink with bows and bells.'

'nice.'

'so r u goin 2 wear the dress or the shorts?'

'idk yet.'

Here Bex popped in. 'i dont like the dress. its too goth punk, not wat ur looking 4.'

'i agree.'

'i dunno, i think Em could pull off the goth-punk-fairy-cat-look.'

'tru dat.'

And it is true. The only one in our group who is actually my age, Emma Smith is considered- by me, anyway- the prettiest of all of us. She's South African, with dark-ish skin that I swear sparkles sometimes. Her teeth are crooked and her eyelashes are a little stumpy, but her eyes are large and brown, her features pretty much perfect, her ombre hair thick and tousled. Her fashion sense is sophisticated, and she can pull pretty much anything off if she wants to. If we weren't friends I think I would be insanely jealous of her, because she really is beautiful in an imperfect kind of way.

We were trying to put together a costume for her, for the annual mid-year dance that was happening at the end of July, about a month away. A 'Costume Ball', the posters called it. Usually there was a particular theme, but obviously they had run out of ideas because this year it was simply 'Cosplay'. Em was going as a cat, and since she was the only one of us going, she was trying to make up for it by enlisting our help with the costume. At the moment she was torn between shorts or a gauzy black skirt I had bought in a moment of insanity that one time JayJays.

'i'm not going 2 the dance in sum gauzy fairy crap,' came the final verdict. 'i like the shorts.'

'cool.' I was gasping now, so I reluctantly pulled the covers off my head and squinted at my bedside clock, noting as I did that the bed next to mine was empty and probably had been for some time. _Oh crap..._ 'U guys, it's 8:15. we're gonna B late.'

'not me, i'm heading out in a minute.' I could almost hear Dez laughing at my lack of organization. "don't tell me ur still in bed?'

'guilty as charged.' I threw off the covers and winced as the winter air nipped at my arms and legs, shivering as I shuffled around my tiny room looking for my uniform shirt.

Dez- Desiree Jennings for long- is my best friend. Half-French, 15 years old, too clever for her age and obsessed with horses, she may be crazy but she's probably also the sanest one of us all. She's not the prettiest girl in the world but she makes up for it with her long hair and wide smile, and by being the voice of reason in more than a few situations. Constantly optimistic despite having problems of her own, she is an inspiration to me and one of the few people I completely trust.

Rebekah McKenzie is a different story altogether. 14, flame-haired and as giddy as Galinda Upland, Bex is obsessed with Paris, boy-bands and British TV to the point of not talking about anything else. The youngest in a large family, sometimes it seems like she's still just a kid- but then, her random childishness is one of the things I love about her.

I'm also part of a big family- 4 sisters, my parents and mum's mum in a 4-bedroom house, plus dad's parents in the granny-flat next door- but unlike Bex, I'm the oldest. I'm pretty average-looking- frizzy brown hair, brown eyes, big nose, a bit chubby all over. I'm creative, though. I love art, even though I'm not very talented, and I like to write stories (mostly fanfiction) which I'm not too bad at, if I do say so myself. I'm into sci-fi and theater stuff, and I'm an avid reader when I get some time to myself and a good book. That isn't very often, given all the homework and chores have to do, not to mention trying to squeeze in a bit of writing time in-between school-work.

You've probably also worked out that I'm not the most organized (or punctual) person.

I rushed around my room, pulling on clothes, grabbing my shoes and bag and hurriedly tidying up (read: moving everything from the floor to the bed) as I went, as comments popped up on my tablet from my friends, probably teasing me about my disorganization. After looking at the clock again and deciding I didn't have time for makeup, I grabbed my tablet and rushed out to the kitchen to make my breakfast and lunch and yell at whoever was there for not getting me up on time.

* * *

About 20 minutes later, I kissed Mum goodbye and joined the girls at the front gate, where they had been waiting for me. After apologising for being late and listening to their friendly teasing for a few minutes, I reminded them that there was another 20 minutes before the bell rang and asked them what they wanted to do.

Dez held up her clarinet case and told us she was going to practice, and Bex decided to go to class early, the swot, so that just left me with Em. We looked at each other, unsure of how to spend the next 20 minutes, before Em got an idea. "Hey, do you still have the key to the old art room?"

I grinned. "Yep. You wanna visit my secret lair?"

She nodded, and we headed off.

The semester before, Park Ridge High had had a bit of a makeover, and as a result there were now a few unused rooms left over. One of those rooms used to be an art room, and it was still full of broken easels, dried up paints, stiff paintbrushes and books and paper shoved in every corner. No-one had bothered to clean it out and no-one ever went in it. I had stolen a key from the janitor one afternoon and had a copy made, and claimed the room as my own little hideaway. Em had never been inside, but she knew that if I wasn't with the girls, I was in there, writing stories or making use of the few usable art supplies that were left.

On the way to the art room, I ran to my locker and shoved all my stuff in except my black shoulder-bag. As I slammed it shut and got ready to leave, Em nudged me, and I looked in the direction she was pointing. On one end of the hall was a limping figure, bent almost double it seemed, clad in a green jacket and walking slowly. I knew who this was. He was a new student, a boy in my year, who had arrived in the last week of last term, giving everyone just enough time to form an opinion of him before the holidays arrived. His name was Quasimodo Frollo, he was 16, and he was the ugliest person I had ever seen.

His face was impossibly twisted, a bit like squashed play-dough, and his reddish hair flopped over one side, hiding what looked like a giant lump just above his right eye. His eyes were green, ridiculously green, and he was about my height or a little shorter. You would think that having a facial deformity would be his only problem, but no. He was hunchbacked. Yeah, that's right. Really, properly hunchbacked, with a giant lump on his back and his head squished between his shoulders like her was trying to hide. Oh, and he also had one leg shorter than the other. What a combination, right? He looked like someone had tried to fix a broken toy and failed miserably.

I remember thinking as soon as I saw him that he would get picked on a lot. I hadn't been paying attention the term before, but as I watched him shuffle up the hallway towards me, head down and eyes on the ground, I could already hear the whispers and giggles. The students of Park Ridge loved a bit of gossip, and they loved a bully's target even more. Oh yes, he was so a target. No-one that ugly could be ignored for long. There was always someone who felt they needed to pick on someone else to make themselves feel better.

Em nudged me again and this time pointed at the other end of the hallway, and my heart sank a little. _Speak of the devil..._

Esme, Phoebus, and Phoebus' two friends, Andrew and Brett, stood in the door way, all of them staring with rapt interest at the boy down the hallway. They were always together, those four, and they were always making trouble for unpopular students. I watched them talk quietly among themselves; then Esme smiled her beautiful, evil smile and nodded at them, and the boys started walking down the hallway towards Quasimodo.

Everything seemed to slow down. Quasimodo kept his eyes on the ground, no doubt aware that everyone in the vicinity was looking at him. As he came closer, Andrew, Brett and Phoebus sped up, and I watched as they 'accidentally' collided with him, causing him to drop his bag and making everything fall out. Books and papers were scattered over the floor, and the sound of laughter followed the boys as they high-fived and headed for the door at the other end.

I was about step over and help him when Em grabbed my arm. Standing in front of him, holding a book and looking for all the world like a kind, caring person, was Esme. She crouched down to help him pick everything up, then smiled brightly and patted him on the shoulder before skipping out the door. Quasimodo stared after her, as everyone started murmuring to themselves.

Em and I exchanged bewildered looks, then she glanced at the clock and started heading in the direction of the art room. I started to follow, still looking at Quasimodo as he stood up, looked at a piece of paper, and approached the empty locker next to mine. His eyes flicked in my direction, and our gazes met.

It was strange, but in those few seconds when the greenest eyes I had ever seen were locked on me, I felt like everything had come to a halt. We stood there, him and me, not moving, not saying anything, just staring; and when I realized what I was doing, I tried to back up, apologise, anything, but I couldn't. It was like I was frozen, help captive by those iridescent eyes that had to be the most beautiful things I had seen in my life. Again I tried to say something, but my mouth seem to dry up and my tongue seemed to stick to my palate, rendering it useless. I was shy and introverted at the best of times, but this was ridiculous. With mouth dry as a bone and feet stuck to the floor, I felt like a tongue-tied idiot. God knows what he thought of me, this weird rude girl who couldn't stop staring at him.

Half an hour later (actually only 7 seconds) my feet finally decided to obey my brain and the world un-paused itself. Recovering myself, I shook my head, spun on my heel and hurried out after Em, wondering what hell had just happened.

* * *

"Well, that was weird."

I nodded vaguely as I dug in my bag for the art-room key, my thoughts preoccupied with what had just happened. "Freaky-weird."

"Esme Azarola doesn't just stop and help someone, especially not people like him. It must be a joke or part of a plan or something... Oh!" She snapped her fingers, eyes lighting up. "I've got it! She's chosen him!"

"Chosen him for what?"

"The prank thing, idiot. You know, the big event, when Esme chooses some poor, unsuspecting mortal to humiliate at the dance?"

"Oh, that." It was a long-standing tradition of sorts, which had been started about 7 years ago by another girl who loved a bit of drama. Every year, one person, usually some kind of outsider, was chosen to be pranked and humiliated in front of everybody at the annual costume dance for a bit of a laugh. Esme had decided to carry on the tradition when the original organizer graduated, and it had recently become more common knowledge when videos of the pranks had been uploaded to YouTube for everyone to watch.

Of course. The strange scene at the lockers was beginning to make some sense now. Quasimodo was definitely the most obvious choice for this year's prank.

But as Em continued to speculate, my mind went back to what had just happened to me back there. _I got tongue-tied- I never do that! Sure, I'm shy and don't usually talk to people anyway, but I couldn't speak a word! That never happens to me- unless it's someone I have a crush on or something. But why couldn't I speak to Quasimodo, of all people?_

"Hey, Mich! Earth to Michigan!" Em poked my shoulder impatiently. "How about spacing out when we've got time for it, ok?"

"Oh... yeah..." I shook my head to clear it and unlocked the door. "Here you, the art room. Nothing special, just a nice place to hang out."

We stepped into the room, and I breathed in the familiar smell of dust, musty paint and goodness-know what else- probably dangerous chemicals, but I didn't really care. This was the one thing I had missed about school during the holidays, and as I gazed around the dark classroom, I felt my spirits begin to lift. It was really only a normal classroom with a few more cupboards and a blackboard, but it was a safe haven.

Em wrinkled her nose at the smell and gingerly perched herself on the corner of a desk. "So, what do you do it here?"

I dropped my bag- containing my paintbrushes, art book and pencil case- in a cupboard and reached behind a shelf, bringing out a pile of canvasses. "These, mostly."

She browsed through the paintings, tilting her head to the side as she examined them. The top one was an almost abstract portrait of a girl underwater, eyes closed and hair floating like a halo. There was a simple red, orange and black sunset, and a bright reproduction of Monet's 'Sunrise'. A foil-and-shellac butterfly on a purple background was at the bottom of the pile, and as I reached behind the shelf for one last canvas, Em gave an impressed nod. "I knew you were arty, but I had no idea you were this good."

"Yeah, everyone seems to love the blue one." I snorted, brushing the dust off the last painting- the small palm tree in my backyard. "No idea why. I think it's the worst of the lot."

Em opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again as she realized arguing was futile. I'd always been known for undervaluing my own work- and it wasn't false modesty, either. I honestly had no idea why people praised my work- in my eyes, my paintings were nothing special.

Em handed back the paintings and eyed me, suspicious. "So how exactly did you get that key? As far as I know, it's kinda against the rules to be in a classroom after hours."

"Copied the janitor's."

"How much time do you actually spend in here?"

"I spend Ancient History in here, and some lunchtimes."

"You skip class?"

I winked. "Don't tell anyone."

She shook her head, looking amused. "Wow, you're really serious, aren't you?"

I shrugged, then jumped as the bell went off. "Oops, gotta go!"

We quickly put everything back in it's place and hurried out. Locking the door behind me, I waved as we separated and made our ways to our first classes of the term.

* * *

**_Finally finished! It's taken me forever to rewrite this chapter. I'm happy with how it turned out though._**

**_Review, and tell me what you think!_**


	2. It Takes Love

**_I suppose I should have mentioned this last chapter: Credit for cover art goes to Leslie the Sorceress :)_**

**_I know I don't write a lot of details. As a result, events in the story will move relatively quickly. I'm sure this won't be a problem, but I'd love to hear from anyone who has any writing tips to share._**

**_Anyway, on with the story :) _**

* * *

Sometimes it's hard to smile  
You keep looking back, searching for somebody  
Who once was in your life  
Baby, let him go now, there'll be something better ahead

It takes love to make love  
You can't hide behind your broken heart  
It takes love to make love  
Let the light of another lover shine on you

We all have tears to cry but there comes a day  
To leave your tears behind you  
And give your heart some place to start  
And if you find your way there  
There'll be someone waiting for you.

'It Takes Love'- Styx.

* * *

The day passed slowly, mostly with me staring at the clock through Maths Prevoc, Science, and English Comm. Even Visual Art was boring, with the teacher simply going through everything we had learned the term before. Ancient History was a breeze- once I knew that we were doing Ancient Egypt, I managed to sneak out when the teacher's back was turned. Oh, the privileges of sitting at the back of the room in the desk nearest the door! I spent the session in the old art-room, arranging my pencils for a still-life and generally moping.

Music was the last session of the day, and as I heard the bell, I considered skipping that, too. I was tired, and it didn't help that the classroom was on the other end of the school. But, figuring that if I didn't at least appear I would get in trouble, I dragged myself out of the art-room and started the walk to the music room.

Approaching the door, I heard the loud voice of Miss Basso and realized with a sinking feeling that I was late. Damn, that probably meant the only seats left were at the front. I eased the door open and peered in, and my eyes widened in surprise. No, the seats up front were taken. And so were all of them except for one at the back, which was strangely vacant. But that never happened except when the person in the next seat was-

Oh.

Ok.

I took a deep breath and tiptoed in, earning a glare from Miss Basso for being late, and gingerly sat down in the chair next to Quasimodo, who was sitting slumped with his face hidden. I took the opportunity while I was arranging my stuff to get another good look at him, and winced as I looked at his back. _Damn he's crooked. But his arms are huge- he's probably really strong. What the hell were his parents on when he was conceived to make him look like that?_

"Michigan Greene! So glad you could join us."

I spun my head to face the teacher, her loud voice having startled me from my thoughts. I had no idea how old Miss Basso was, but she couldn't have been any older than 25. Dark-skinned, petite and personally one of my favourite teachers, her stern voice didn't match her slight frame, but it helped her to keep order in class. Short she may have been, but I think everyone was scared of her. Rumour had it that she was seeing one of the Senior teachers, but I didn't believe it, since he was a lot older than her and already had a wife. But nothing's impossible, right?

"Name one characteristic of Folk music."

I opened my mouth, racking my brain for the answer, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Culture...?"

Miss Basso raised an eyebrow, decreasing my confidence by about 100 percent. She may have been my favourite teacher, but that didn't do anything to quench my fear of her. "Care to elaborate?"

I tried to remember the unit from last term. "The music is related to national culture. It's... um... culturally particular; from a particular region or culture."

Satisfied, she nodded curtly. "Right. Please try to be more punctual next time."

I nodded meekly. "Yes miss."

As she moved off to torture someone else, I heaved a sigh of relief and turned to the back of my notebook, where there were pages and pages of mindless doodles, random song lyrics and bit and pieces from my stories. I had chapter parts strewn through all my notebooks, confusing the teachers sometimes when they turned up on the back of my homework. That went hand in hand with the Gallifreyan symbols and Star Trek badges that I drew in the margins of my notes. Overall, my stuff was always cluttered with drawings, and the teachers had learned long ago to ignore the 'pointless rubbish'.

While I idly doodled flowers in my notebook, my mind and eventually eyes wandered back to the boy sitting next to me. Curious, I peered through my curtain of hair, trying to get another glimpse of his face. Unlike everyone else, I wasn't grossed out by Quasimodo's appearance- it was more like a horrible fascination to me. I parted my hair, allowing me to see better, and looked closer. _Well, he maybe be ugly, but he's got cute little ears... and he's definitely very strong..._ I thought back to our previous encounter and smiled to myself. _And he has the greenest eyes I've ever seen..._

Suddenly realizing what I was doing, I straightened up and stared straight in front, trying to follow what the teacher was saying- or trying to distract myself from thinking about Quasimodo again. _Of all the guys I could've been thinking about, I had to choose the ugly one. God, how embarrassing._

"...and I hope you've all been paying attention because there will be a test on Wednesday." Miss Basso looked at the clock and gazed around the class. "No homework for today. That's all. Welcome back to school, people." The bell rang, and I looked down at my notebook, which was empty except for a flower border. _Paying attention... right..._ Shaking my head, I gathered up my stuff and walked out the door with everyone else, pleased that the school day was finally over.

* * *

It was a few weeks into term, and everyone had settled into their usual routines. My back-to-school depression had faded as I began to enjoy my schoolwork- creative writing in English and a painting unit in Art. Maths was, as always, more annoying than informative, History classes were never attended, and nothing much was happening in Music, although Miss Basso had darkly hinted at upcoming special projects. I didn't know whether to dread or look forward to it.

My seat in Music had become a permanent fixture, since Quasimodo always took the same seat and no-one else wanted to sit next to him. Surprisingly, I had only copped a minute amount of teasing for this, which I could easily ignore, although sometimes I wondered if it would be different if Esme was sitting there. No one would dare tease her, no matter what she did.

We had all been shocked by Esme Azarola's seeming transformation. As the class bully through primary and high school, she had always been the first to single out fresh meat for her yearly torture. In junior primary, she had quickly established herself as top-dog, and even I hadn't escaped her target- my first and second grade memories were mostly of her and her girlfriends, Sky and Chloe Cook, cornering me in the toilets, stealing my ball and being generally mean. Thankfully my friends and I hadn't been in her sights for a long time, and we hoped it would stay that way.

But now! It seemed that whenever Quasimodo was in trouble, she was there to help him out, whether it be to pick up his books or stand up for him in class. Rumour had it that she had blown off the boys to help him reorganize his locker after someone trashed it. Was it possible that the resident mean-girl was turning over a new leaf?

"I don't believe it." Dez shook her head, looking skeptical. "No-one changes that fast,_ especially_ not her."

It was lunchtime, and we were grouped around the unused half-court on the far oval. Dez was surrounded by pieces of her clarinet, which she was busy cleaning, while I tried to twirl a basketball on my finger and eat at the same time. The other sat around, watching us or eating.

"I bet she's using him."

Em rolled her eyes at Bex. "Duh, that much is obvious, but what for?"

"What could she possibly hope to gain by befriending the school freak?

"It's gotta have something to do with the dance. By now she's usually busy plotting her moves."

"I guess we'll find out at the end of the month." I stood up and kicked my lunchbag to the side. "Are you guys finished? I wanna get some practice in."

Grumbling, Dez shifted her broken up instrument, while the others got up to join me.

"Come on, Dez, make it an even team!"

She glared at us but quickly put her instrument away and joined us anyway, and pretty soon we were playing a rowdy game of basketball.

* * *

It was 3:1, my team (me and Dez) FTW, when a rebound bounced out of the court and into the hands of Phoebus James.

My mood was popped like a balloon as he lined up the shot and effortlessly tossed it through the hoop from the edge of the court. _He taught me that._ Not only that, but he caught it and refused to give it back.

"Aw, c'mon Phoebus!" Em leaped for the ball, but was easily side-stepped. "Give us the ball!"

"Yeah, shouldn't you be fawning over your darling Esme?" I teased.

He tossed his blond hair and looked over at me tauntingly. "You know you're just jealous."

"Not in your life!" I shot back bitterly. Watching him take another shot, I looked at the ground and shrugged like I didn't care. "It doesn't matter, guys. Come on."

Dez and Em looked at me in surprise, then grabbed their lunches and moved to follow me, but Bex stood her ground. "Give it back, please."

He began to dribble the ball from one hand to the other, a glint in his eye. "See if you can get it, little 9th grader."

For a moment it looked like Bex was going to back down, but then, quick as lightening, she kicked him in the shin. Taken by surprise and pain, he dropped the ball, which she promptly snatched up.

"Thanks," she simpered sweetly, and skipped over to us, where we went about congratulating her.

Phoebus glared at us. "Damn, Michi, your friends are fierce!"

I froze, and slowly turned to face him. "Don't call me Michi."

His eyes widened. "C'mon, you're not still-"

"I said don't."

"Mich-"

"I SAID DON'T!" I stepped back and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Don't even talk to me, James, ok? I don't wanna hear anything you have to say. Not any more." I turned, grabbing Dez's sleeve. "Let's go, girls."

And, surprised by what they had seen, they followed me.

* * *

Bex, the only one not aware of what had just happened, was quick to bring it up once we reached the lockers. "So what was that about?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." I put my basketball in and took out my books for the next few classes, slamming the door shut. "Let's say we have a history and leave it at that, ok?"

"Ok."

I knew Dez would probably fill her in later, so I didn't bother continuing. "Good. Now, I think I'll go to music early, if it's ok with you guys."

"Sure, but why music?"

"Cuz the art-room's too far away. See ya." Not bothering to hang around for a response, I trudged away, lost in my own thoughts.

It was hard not to get emotional whenever I had some kind of interaction with the guy I swore I'd never speak to again. I was feeling confused and moody and angry and weepy, which in turn made me even more angry with myself. I had always wanted to be tough, to be that girl who doesn't need a man to complete her. I always scorned at those girls who were boy-obsessed, but the truth was I still couldn't stop thinking about Phoebus. I wasn't still in love with him, no way; or that's what I told myself, anyway. I honestly wasn't sure how I felt. All I knew was that I was still upset about the way he had treated me, and I desperately wanted my pathetic-ness to end. But it didn't look like anything was going to change any time soon.

I entered the classroom and started heading to my usual back seat before realizing that one- the room was practically empty so I could sit wherever I wanted, and two- Quasimodo was also there already. With Esme.

He was sitting straight (or as straight as one with a hunch could be) and listening attentively to what she was saying, a peculiar glow lighting up his features_._ Esme saw me and looked away, deeming me unimportant, and turned back to Quasimodo as I found a seat somewhere in the middle. "So you'll come?"

He nodded eagerly, and she smiled and turned to go, hardly sparing me a glance. Quasimodo watched her go, and I was struck by how transfixed he seemed to be with her. I was sure he never caught a glimpse of her face as she left the room, but I saw the sneer of disgust that came over it as soon as she moved away. It made me angry that she was playing with his feelings like that, but at the same time, I wondered why I should care. He was just another poor, unsuspecting freak who was perfect for tormenting. It happened all the time. Why should now be any different?

Oh, who was I kidding. Of course I cared. I cared every time to saw Esme Azarola dedicate herself to another being's ruin. But there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn't about to stick my neck out for some kid, no matter how little he deserved what was happening to him. I was invisible, and I liked it that way.

* * *

_A group project?_ I groaned inwardly as Miss Basso began handing out the sheets. I had never liked working in a group and I worked a lot better on my own_. I don't suppose I can ask to work alone?_

"Now, I'm going to call out your names and put you into pairs. Then you'll have 30 seconds to find your partner and sit with them." She held up the roll. "Tiffany Amour and Jackson Bast. Holly Burns and Joycelyn Byron…"

_Great, we don't even get to choose our partners. _I leaned my head on my hand and stared at a spot on my desk, no longer interested in anything.

"Maxine Dalton and Hope Dixon. Quasimodo Frollo and Michigan Greene. Bella Houston…"

I looked over at Quasimodo, not knowing how to view this development. Sitting next to him a few times a week was one thing, but how much social suicide was being his partner going to be? _Since when have you cared about social suicide? _a little voice whispered in my mind. I considered this carefully before coming to a conclusion- never.

I shrugged and turned my chair in his direction. _What the hell. Let's do this._

* * *

**_Coming up, Mich and Quasi's first conversation._**

**_Drop a review?_**


	3. The Start of Something New

**_Chapter 3!_**

**_I'm on a roll today._**

**_Here Quasi and Mich will have their first conversation and then some unnecessary details about Mich's family that I didn't want to take out because I had nothing to substitute it with. Oh well. Hope you still like it :)_**

* * *

This is the start of something beautiful  
This is the start of something new  
You are the one who'd make me lose it all  
You are the start of something new, ooh

You are the earth that I will stand upon  
You are the words that I will sing  
This is the start of something beautiful  
You are the start of something new

'This'- Ed Sheeran

* * *

I studied the paper in front of me, biting my lip as I read the questions on the top half of the page. Miss Basso had decided that the first thing to do would be a get-to-know-you activity, just to break the ice between the new pairs. All of us had separated into pairs and were now quietly interviewing each other, and the soft murmuring was soothing as I tried to not to freak out. It wasn't being Quasimodo's partner that scared me. It was having to talk to someone I didn't know. As an introvert, meeting new people was one of the most difficult things I had to face. Striking up a conversation with another introvert would be even harder. I mean, I could barely keep up small talk with my friends. _Fat lot of good sitting somewhere else was- I ended up next to him again anyway._ Shrugging to myself, I took a deep breath and turned to Quasimodo, determined to try.

"OK, full name, already know that." I wrote 'Quasimodo Frollo' in the space. "And age. 16, right?" He nodded, and I wrote it down. "Ok, so, do you play a musical instrument?"

"Yes," he said, and I was struck by the hoarseness of his voice, like he was unused to speaking. From the few times I had seen him the term before, I could readily believe that. So far, I hadn't seen him speak to anyone. "I-I play guitar."

"Cool, me too!" For a moment, I was strangely excited that we had something in common. "But I'm not that great at it. What about you? Are you any good?"

He shifted, shrugging non-committedly. "I don't know."

"Ok then." I looked at the list, reading the next few questions to myself. "Favourite music genre?"

"Uh… rock?"

I wrote it down, even though he didn't sound very sure. "Favourite singer or band with this genre?"

He cleared his throat, staring at his desk, mumbling his answer, and I had to lean in to hear him. "Don't really know any."

"Really?" I tried to think of some famous rock bands, but could only come up with a few. "Do you know Guns'n'Roses?" He shook his head. "What about Queen?" Another shake. "KISS? The Beatles? Totally different music styles, I know, but they're all rock." He was silent, and I was beginning to think he's never heard any music at all. "I think Elvis was rock. To tell the truth, I'm not really into rock, although I like Styx. They're pretty awesome, actually. I don't suppose you've heard of them either?"

To my surprise, the name seemed to give him a jolt of recognition.

"Do you know them?"

He nodded.

Suddenly excited again, I turned to face him properly. "Finally! None of my friends have ever heard of them, and no-one knows what I'm talking about when I mention them. But how come you know them but none of the more famous ones?"

"My mother…" He trailed off, then cleared his throat and started again. "My mother… had some CDs… that she played for me. When I was younger."

"Your mum's got great taste, then."

"Had."

I cocked my head, confused. "What?"

"Had great taste." He looked up, meeting my eyes for the first time. "She's dead now."

"Oh." Once again, I found myself staring into his gorgeous greens eyes, and had to hurriedly pull myself back. "I-I'm sorry, I had no idea."

He looked away. "Didn't expect you to."

I bit my lip and quickly turned back to the questions, a little taken aback and not knowing what to make of it. Part of me was amazed that we were having an actual conversation, but another part was completely bewildered by the whole thing. For one thing, I so wasn't used to talking to boys. Or strangers, for that matter. And I had no idea how to comfort someone, or whether to do it at all. On top of that, I was partnered with the biggest outcast in the whole school, and I didn't know if I would get away with it for long. The awkwardness was coming from every quarter, and I think we were both feeling it. I would've stopped our interview there but for the fact that these questions and answers were supposed to be handed in, so we continued on, albeit a little quickly. By the time I had finished, the bell was ringing and he still hadn't interviewed me yet. So I grabbed his sheet, wrote in my answers and passed it back, then exited as swiftly as possible, trying not to think about the most awkward conversation in the whole world.

* * *

The rest of the day passed slowly, and I was grateful when it was over. Later that night, while I was doing homework in my room, Angie slouched in and flopped down on my bed.

Angelina was 13, the second oldest after me. She and I were completely different, and that meant that we usually got along a lot better than the others. She was olive-skinned, a lot more tanned than me, with honey-brown hair, small hazel eyes and full lips. She was a lot less developed than me when I was her age, which I teased her about sometimes, but on the plus side, she was a lot slimmer and about 100 time more athletic. She also had some symptoms of Aspergers, which made her act strangely sometimes, and all she seemed to care about was sports and violin. She was so unlike the rest of us that we sometimes joked that she was an alien from another planet. Never caring about our teasing, she often played up to these accusations, which made this annoying but lovable girl my second-favourite sister.

Now, though, I barely acknowledged her presence as she entered the room. "Ever heard of knocking?"

"To tired for that." She examined her nails, making me jealous of her perfect hands. They were long a slim and soft, whereas mine were stumpy and boyish, and my nails were horrible from a childhood of biting them. "Highschool is so hard."

"Welcome to my world." I chucked a ball of paper at her head, deciding to take a break from maths. "Don't you have homework?"

"Did it all at lunch."

"Lucky you. How was your day?"

She made a face. "Rubbish. Hey, have you seen that really ugly new guy?"

"Who, the redhead with the hunch?" I nodded, suddenly feeling guarded. "Yeah, he's in my music class. Actually, I'm sitting next to him."

"Really? Is he just as disgusting up close, or worse?"

I pursed my lips, trying not to go off at her for being so mean. "I don't know, I don't look that close."

"True," she said, nodding innocently. "I guess no-one could bear to get up close to him. Does he stink, too?"

"No, he doesn't stink, Angie." I gritted my teeth. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"Dunno, it was just a thought."

"Well, maybe you should keep your thoughts to yourself."

She rolled over, looking at me in surprise. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. You were just being a bit mean, that's all."

"But he _is_ ugly."

"I know, but that doesn't mean you have to comment on it. He probably gets enough of that from everyone else."

"Fine, whatever." Angie chucked the paper back at me and sat up. "Oh, by the way, nanna wants your washing basket, cuz she's dong a load tomorrow."

"Ok, thanks." I turned back to my book, tuning her out. "God this maths is retarded. I swear I wont use any of this after highschool."

"I know," Angie agreed, getting up to leave. "I guess I'll leave you to it. See-ya."

"See-ya."

* * *

After she had left, I sat for a while, distracting myself by trying to balance a pencil on my nose and thinking about nothing at all. The sounds of my family echoed through the house, and I idly wondered why the little ones weren't in bed yet. I had 3 other sister besides Angie, all younger than me.

Del, short for Delenn, was next down from Angie, 11 years old and a complete airhead. Like me she had brown hair and freckles, but her eyes were grey and she was thin as a rake. A genius at music and maths, but everything else seemed so much harder to her. She reminded me of a fairy, weak and sensitive with her head in the clouds. Sometimes I wondered if she had learnt anything from living with us, since we had been trying to toughen her up for years.

Rose was next, 7 years old and very clingy. She had Del's hair and eyes, but her looks were her own, and she was cleverer than she sometimes let on. I shared my bedroom with her, and overall she was a nice, quiet room-mate.

Kate was the youngest, 4 years old and the most adorable little girl I'd ever seen. Although she was smaller than a lot of kids her age, she was by no means backward, being extremely articulate and able to recognise colour, numbers and most letters by sight at age 3. Her grown-up way of talking often had us in stitches, but we had to be careful about what we said around her, since she tended to pick up whatever she heard and parrot it back in the most inappropriate situations. She had my brown hair and eyes but promised to be a lot prettier than me, which I was completely fine with since she was my favourite sister.

So you see, my house really was packed to the rafters, housing 5 girls, my parents and my grandma in 4 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms in a house that never seemed to be clean. My parents were quite used to double than number of girls in the holidays, when the 3 oldest had our friends over, and during those times everything turned into a free-for-all.

My life may not have been typical, but it was mine, and I loved it.

I was interrupted from my mental wanderings by Rose, who came in to get dressed for bed.

"Mum and dad are watching Star Trek," she announced, throwing her arms around me for a goodnight hug.

I hugged and kissed her and grabbed my book. "Which one?"

"Next Gerneration."

I leaped up with a hurried 'goodnight' and headed for the lounge room, hoping they would let me do my homework in front of the telly.

This was my life, and I was happy.

* * *

Amid the typing of keyboards and the soft murmurings of idle chatter, I tried to balance my laptop on my lap as I searched through the many books on my desk. Our 3rd music project was an essay about a particular band and it's musical style, and we have been allowed to choose our favourites. Now, everyone was researching and collecting information- except me. Having found a few helpful websites and already knowing enough about my singer to write the essay, I was now looking to update my stories, hence the pawing through notebooks. I had 5 of them, full of study notes and other things, with bits of chapters and stories scattered throughout, so it was a real challenge to find my updates.

Next to me, Quasimodo was typing madly. Our small chat seemed to have opened the floodgates to his research, and it gave my a strange kind of satisfaction to see him enjoying it. Since that last time, even though we sat next to each other in music and his locker was right next to mine, we hadn't spoken another word to each other. But now i felt the urge to make conversation. I wouldn't have been ashamed to admit that i was deadly curious about him, but i also felt sort of protective towards him. Although I had promised myself not to interfere with outcast- for my own protection, i might add- the fact was i wanted to be his friend. And since Esme had been showing an interest in him, no major bullying had been going on beside the usual teasing and a few silly pranks. I had nothing to fear.

I don't mind saying right now that my reasonings were almost purely selfish.

But right now, my natural shyness was getting in the way again. Last time communication had been compulsory to complete the assignment. Now, I had no idea how to start. As I hurriedly leafed through my notebooks, I tried to come up with a conversation starter._ I could ask him if he's going to the dance... no, he might think I'm fishing for an invite. Ask about his mum? No, that might seem impolite. How the hell do you talk to a guy who doesn't talk himself?_ A notebook slid off the pile and fell on the floor, disturbing the quiet, and Miss Basso looked up from marking assignments to eyeball me. I meekly picked it up and retreated behind my laptop. She may have been my favorite teacher, but that didn't mean she didn't terrify me.

I opened the book and it seemed to magically fall open on the page I wanted- a page that was now smeared with jammy handprints and wobbly stick-figures. Rose's handiwork. I sighed and propped it up on the desk, then started copying the words into my document, squinting sometimes to be able to read it. And then I realized how to start the conversation.

"So, um, Quasimodo?"

He stopped typing, but didn't look over.

"Do you have brothers or sisters?" I continued typing, waiting for his answer.

For a moment I thought he hadn't heard, but at length he spoke. "No."

"Just you and your dad, then?"

"Yes."

"Ok." Already feeling awkward enough, I didn't say anything else for a little while. I felt like such a dork, but I wasn't going to completely give up just yet. "I have 4 sisters."

He cleared his throat. "Th-that's a lot."

"Yeah." I leaned closer to the book, trying to make something out. "So, uh, do you have a favourite movie?"

"I-I don't watch T-TV."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? Lots of time to practice guitar, then?"

"Yes."

"Cool." I was getting the knack of this. "Where were you before you came here?"

"Ipswich."

"Really? I lived there for about 10 years. What did you think of it?"

He shrugged.

"People say it's a rough place, but I liked living there. Might be just me, though." I paused, thinking of the next question. "Um... So why did you move here?"

To my surprise, Quasimodo tensed up, refusing to answer, and a moment later was furiously banging on his keyboard again. I looked at him, then shrugged and went back to my own computer. "Sorry, bad question."

We went on typing for the next few minutes. Finishing my chapter, I saved it and pulled my earphones out of my bag, then pulled up my music folder. While I plugged in the devices and tried to decide on Taylor Swift or Dennis Deyoung, Quasimodo finished typing and sat there staring at the screen, and I waited for him to speak.

"I-I was bullied."

I looked at him, this revelation not surprising at all. "Oh?"

He looked down at his lap, thick fingers fidgeting nervously. "Th-they s-said horrible things, a-and they hurt me. The t-teachers, t-too. So my f-father decided to m-move us away."

I bit my lip, unsure of how to react. "I'm sorry. Was... was it Bundamba?"

"Yes."

I nodded. "My friend goes there, and she says it's a pretty bad school. I can understand why you were-"

He looked at me, understanding at once what I was about to say and accepting it with a defeated air. It put me off-guard, and I hurriedly tried to correct myself.

"Not that... I mean, I wasn't saying... You're not... Ah, damn." I buried my head in my hands, mortified.

"D-don't be embarrassed." He looked at his hands again. "I-I am ugly. I kn-know it. I-I've kn-known it s-since I w-was little. Every s-school I go t-to, I-I g-get bullied f-for it." He paused, frowning slightly. "Except here. I n-not t-treated nearly as b-bad here."

"To be honest, it surprises me too." Having recovered from my embarrassment, I decided to address the subject I had been wondering about. "Take Esme for example. She's being really nice to you, but she's not usually like that. She's been a bully for as long as I can remember. Every year she picks someone, usually a new guy, to torment and humiliate. It seems so strange to see her being kind to anyone, especially someone-" I stopped and looked down, embarrassed again, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

"S-someone like me? I-it's ok, you can say it."

Not seeing any other way to word it, I reluctantly agreed with him. "Yes, I was going to say that. I don't mean to be rude, but it's just that I'm not used to seeing Esme like this."

"She is nice." Quasimodo's eyes got a far-away look in them, and I began to realize how much this girl was having an effect on him. "Sh-she's kind, and p-pretty, and p-probably the nicest p-person I've ever met."

I had nothing to say to that. I hadn't recently seen enough of Esme to make a determination of character, but everyone knew she was beautiful. Tanned skin, long thick black hair, large dark eyes that rivaled mine, a gorgeous size 6 figure and a chest that looked fake- there weren't many ways to look good in our uniforms, but she managed it easily. It was probably safe to say that she was the envy of every girl in the school, including the entire squad of anorexic blondes who called themselves cheerleaders.

"I suppose," I said finally.

He looked at me, surprised. "I d-didn't think about it before, b-but you're t-talking to me. Why?"

I shrugged. "I guess... I want to be your friend."

"Why?"

"Because you're different." I met his gaze, smiling a little. "And I've never been afraid of different."

He nodded slightly and looked away. "M-maybe i've finally..."

"Found a place you can belong?" I put in my earphones and selected a track. Music blared into my ears. "I hope so."

We were silent for the rest of the lesson, but I felt that I had found, if not a friend, then at least an acquaintance in him.

But his comment about her being the nicest person he had ever met stuck with me. As the bell rang and we packed up our things, I thought it over. The more smitten Quasimodo seemed to get, and the better he was treated, the more I wondered about Esme's real motives. And I desperately hoped that whatever she was planning wasn't going to hurt him too much.

I also, though I would never had admitted it, felt a teensy bit of jealousy.

But that was a thought that I immediately buried, not wanting to confront any feelings for anyone as yet. Making friends with an outcast was always a sure way to get picked on yourself, and although I did want to be his friend I wasn't prepared to do anything other than talk. I wasn't ready to give up my invisibility just yet.

* * *

**_I know Mich seems kinda selfish, but eventually she'll change. Not yet, though. _**

**_Tell me what you think?_**


	4. Interactions

_**Couldn't find a song to go with this chapter, so we'll have to go without. Just a filler, nothing really important happens.**_

**_Hope you like :)_**

* * *

**Park Ridge State High School 2013 Concert**

**PLACES NOW OPEN**

**Those interested: see Miss Basso**

**Date: TBA**

**Reiminder-Art students: See Ms Trouillefou for Costume Ball hall decorating**

Dez handed round our muffins, warm from the tuckshop oven, and nudged me as I gazed at the poster. "I'll be playing in the concert, with the senior band. Thinking of entering?"

"Hmm, maybe." I shrugged and took a bite, immediately grimacing at the taste. "Ugh, what is this?"

"Oops, must be mine." Bex examined her wrapper, then mine. "Yep, see, mine's the gluten-free one."

We exchanged packages, just in time for Indianna Brightman, senior, cheer captain and ultimate dumb blonde, and her cheerleader friends to walk by and see. Esme was her idol, so it was no surprise that she delighted in trying to bully everyone.

"Aw, look, the little girls are sharing food now! How cute!" Indi smirked and tried to pat Bex's head. Which, of course, Bex didn't allow. Ducking away, she broke off a piece of her muffin, crumbled it in her hand, and sprinkled it in the blonde girl's hair.

"My hair!" Indi gasped, frantically trying to brush them out. "What the hell, you little freak?"

"Wha-" I was interrupted by Dez, who pushed me roughly and gaze me a look that plainly said 'do not even think about getting involved here', and was forced to hold my tongue. Meanwhile, after scowling evily and muttering threats at Bex, Indi stalked off, probably to the bathroom to finished fixing her hair, and Bex looked quite proud of herself. Dez, however, didn't.

"You shouldn't have provoked her," she scolded Bex, who rolled her eyes. "And you should've just ignored her," she continued, glancing disapprovingly at me.

I sighed, taking one last look at the concert poster before taking a step in the direction of the Music block. "Yes, mum. Just be grateful I didn't end up saying what I was gonna say. Those girls rile me up so much, I swear..."

"Yeah, I know. Where are you going?"

"Practice rooms. You'll never believe it, but Esme invited me to some kind of emergency session."

It was true. I had been coming out of English, minding my own business, when all of a sudden my notebook was snatched out of my hand. I had whirled around to see the gorgeous but terrifying Esme, leaning casually on the wall leafing through the pages. I had immediately protested- that particular notebook contained poetry, quotes and diary entries of a personal nature- but was forced to stand there watching her go through my precious book for a few minutes more. After studying a few pages with interest, she finished and tossed it back to me.

"I heard you were into writing, so I though I'd have a little look-see," she had said, airily pushing her self off the wall and standing over me- not _over me_ as such, for she was shorter than me, but her superior air made her seem taller somehow- with one hand on her hip. "I like what I see. I need you to come to the practice rooms at lunch today, ok?"

"O-ok," I had stammered, clutching my book tightly, confused.

She had smiled her dazzling smile at me, and for a moment I had forgotten that she was a big scary bully capable of anything, but when she abruptly turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway like she owned the place, I was left wondering what the hell had just happened.

Now, as surprise flitted across my friends' faces, I headed for the music block, not knowing what to expect.

* * *

Approaching the building, I heard the sounds of different instruments and the chattering of many voices. Peering through the window, discovered about a third of the senior band present, tuning their instruments and playing bits of songs, while a large group was clustered in front of the whiteboard. _There's Nora- what does she have to do with music? And Helen, and Jo, and Kierra- it looks like half the Drama club's in there too._ I peered closer, trying to make out what they were looking at. All I could see was a bunch of random lines and letters and a hand with a whiteboard marker drawing more on. They all seemed to be talking at the tops of their voices and laughing about nothing in particular, and I was loathe to go in with all those people, but I had been recruited by Esme herself. For some reason they needed me. So I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and opened the door.

The noise hit me like a tidal wave of sound, and I winced as the door shut behind me. If I was here because of my poetry, how was I supposed to write with this collection of guitar, violin, drums, flute, trumpet and voices yelling reverberating in my head?

Suddenly, the gaggle of girls- oops, no, i saw a boy or two in there too- the gaggle of people moved back from the board and spit in two, revealing Esme, pen in one hand, the other on her hip, looking smug and very please with herself. Behind her was what I now recognized as some kind of floor plan for the school hall.

"Ok, people!" she shouted, somehow getting over the wall of noise that everyone else was making. Immediately, instruments and voices alike ceased. "That's better." She smiled at everyone, and her gaze came to rest on me. "Good, poetry-girl's here. You haven't been to a meeting before, so I'll explain what's happening."

I nodded, frowning a little. _Poetry-girl?_

"As probably know, I'm planning the next big Costume Ball prank," she continued. "I've got the subject picked out and I've got the rough outline of the prank. Your job is to write us a song."

"A song?"

"Yes, a song."

I bit my lip, wondering how to get off of this. "I'm assuming that is song has to do with hu- i mean, pranking the subject?"

"Duh." Esme glanced at everyone else, smirking. "It's _about_ the subject."

"And, um, who is the subject?"

"Who do you think? That ugly lump Quasimodo, of course."

My heart gave a great thump, but not with nervousness. This time, I was angry, but I struggled to control it. "What kind of song? I need more info."

"Look, just write the song, ok? Write about how ugly he is, what everyone thinks of him, that kind of thing."

I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to deck her. "I can't."

"What?" Everyone looked at me, surprised, while Esme narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, you can't? It's just poetry. You can write poetry, I've seen it myself."

"I mean, I don't want anything to do with this. I don't want to help you humiliate Quasimodo." I started edging towards the door.

"Hey, come back here." Esme's eyes flashed, and her mouth twisted into a half smirk, half scowl. "What are you, in love with him or something?"

"No." I looked her straight in the eye. "I just refuse to be part of your bullying." And with that, I left, not waiting to see her reaction.

* * *

_"Attention students: Will Michigan Greene please make her way to the office immediately. Michigan Greene, to the office immediately." _

I looked up from copying the sums on the whiteboard into my notebook, surprised at the announcement. I looked at the teacher, who looked displeased but nodded at me as permission to leave. Shrugging, I got up and left the room, heading for the office.

As I walked, I wondered about what had happened in the practice room, wondering if what I had done would bring Esme's wrath upon me. I also wanted to warn Quasimodo not to go to the dance, but even if I could, I doubted he would listen to me. He was too far gone on that girl to believe anything bad about her. Still, I felt I had to try.

I came into view of the office, and pretty soon I was inside, waiting at the desk. The lady behind the computer looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I got called here."

"Are you Michigan?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

Her eyes widened, realizing that I thought something bad had happened. "Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I was told to give you a message from home. Apparently your mother isn't able to pick you up this afternoon, so you'll have to wait till 4:30 for your father to pick you up."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. At home time, you'll just have to come to the office and wait for your father here, ok?"

"Ok. Thank you." I nodded and smiled, then turned away and headed out, snorting to myself. Like hell I was going to wait for hours in that stuffy little office.

* * *

Looking around, I walked out the door and headed for the bench outside. It was the end of the day, and instead of going to the office, I was waiting near the unused side door, with a clear view of the road so I could see when Dad came. Watching students rush back and forth at the front of the school, waiting for their own rides, I opened my laptop and brought up my music folder, and pulled a book out of my bag. It was going to be a long wait.

_An hour later..._

Sighing, I put my book away and stretched, looking around. My gaze came to rest on... Quasimodo? Surprised, I wondered when he had appeared and whether he was waiting for his dad too.

Deciding to be friendly, I took out an earphone, waited for him to look over and waved him over, patting the space next to me. He looked unsure for a moment, as if he thought I didn't mean it, but eventually he decided to obey, and I shuffled over to make room for him.

"So, waiting for your dad?" I asked casually as he sat down, taking advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking at me to get another good look at him. I didn't know what fascinated me so much about him, but I wasn't ashamed of my curiosity.

"Yes."

"Me too. Do you wait here every day?"

"Yes."

I nodded and glanced at him, finding him absorbed in staring at the cracks in that ground. Struck with an idea, I went back to my laptop and started searching through folders, hoping I'd find what I was looking for.

Time passed in silence, until finally I hit upon the right folder. With a muffled 'yesss' and a fist pump, I tapped Quasimodo on the shoulder and held out the earphone. He studied it, confused for a second, then slowly took it and looked at me questioningly.

"Put it in your ear," I said, resisting the urge to laugh.

He did, and I highlighted the entire folder and clicked play. Music suddenly blared into our ears, and I watched his face as it changed expression from confused to amazed to happy. I was so absorbed in staring at him that when I snapped out of it, I found that I had been smiling along with him. I shook my head and leaned back, arms crossed, mouthing the words and watching Quasimodo as he enjoyed the music.

Ten songs later, a familiar car pulled up behind the fence, and I paused the music and shrugged at Quasimodo. "That's my ride."

He nodded and gave me back the earphone. I took a moment to pack everything up, then smiled at him before getting up and slinging my bag on my back. "See-ya"

I turned and climbed the fence, then waved and got in the car. Inside, Dad looked at Quasimodo, then at me. "Who's that?"

"Some kid in my class." I leaned back and sighed as Dad pulled out into the traffic.

"Not very good-looking, is he?"

"No." I turned peered back out the window, but we were already to far away. "No, not really. But you know what? I like him anyway."

He looked at me sharply, frowning a little. "Really?"

"Not like that, you big doofus." I shook my head at my father and his over-protectiveness. "He's just a friend, Dad."

"Good."

I smiled, eyes on the traffic. "So, how was work?"

* * *

**_You don't have to review this chapter if you don't want to. It is kinda boring. Hopefully the next one with be more interesting :)_**


	5. Someone To Save You

**_Another filler, but hopefully a bit more interesting. Mich goes to Quasi's house and meets Frollo, and she tries to warn him about Esme's plans. _**

**_Enjoy :)_**

* * *

Patience took you for everything  
Looked like a diamond ring  
You are so much longer  
That made sense

Apathy in disguise  
Crept on you like a spy  
Hurt you in ways  
You cant describe

Back to the start now  
I wont let you go this way now

Honesty is what you need  
It sets you free like someone to save you  
Let it go but hurry now  
There's undertow and I don't wanna lose you now.

'Someone To Save You'- One Republic

* * *

The more I thought about it, the more I felt that Quasimodo needed to be warned about Esme's plans.

But not yet. For when I got to school the next day, I found that he wasn't there.

At first, I didn't think much of it. I never saw him in the mornings anyway- it was usually closer to the middle of the day when I saw him walking down the hallway, or only in music class. But as the day progressed, I realized that I just wasn't going to see him today.

For some reason, this fact seemed to put a dampener on my spirits. Although we weren't really friends yet, I had enjoyed seeing the deformed boy every day. I wasn't completely sure why- perhaps it was the fact that he was so shy, and I liked shy people. I didn't have the faintest idea. All I knew was that when I entered music class that Wednesday and saw the empty seat next to mine, I was filled with a heavy sense of disappointment. And I found that that class was the longest it had ever been.

Strolling back to the lockers at lunchtime, I noticed a piece of paper stuck in the grill of Quasimodo's locker. I eyed it curiously, then, checking that nobody was looking, I pulled it out and opened it up. And I gasped as I read what was within.

_Go back to where you came from you ugly freak._

My hands clenched into fists, crumpling the paper, as I struggled to keep my composure. It was difficult, but eventually I regained my myself enough to be able to breath without wanting to strangle the first person I saw. I shoved it deep in my pocket and grabbed my lunch bag, slamming my locker shut with as much force as I could, and went to lunch.

* * *

I was still boiling when I sat down at our table.

"Whoa, what's wrong with you?" Dez asked as I plonked myself down on the seat, staring at my angry face with concern.

I looked at my friends and let out a frustrated sigh, pulling the crumpled note out of my pocket. "Guess what I found in Quasimodo's locker?"

Dez took it and stared, open-mouthed, at the spiteful words. Bex snatched it off her, read it, and passed it wordlessly to Em, who passed it back to me.

"How friggin horrible is that?" I asked, my voice going up a notch as the silence stretched out.

"Mich!" Dez reproched.

I gave her a look. "I didn't swear, Dez, but I feel like it. I'm just so angry right now-"

"I know." She nodded, frowning. "I agree that it's mean and hateful, and I'm glad you got to it before he did. But there's no point in getting upset."

"How did you get into his locker, anyway?" Bex asked.

"It was in the grill. Honestly, the nerve of some people-"

"But, to be fair, I can kinda see why they do it. I mean, he is ugly, and you know how much everyone like to pick on something different."

"Emma Smith, are you excusing whoever did this?"

"No, of course not, but I'm just saying, it's understandable-"

"How could you be so cruel?" I cried, glaring at her. "You sound like you don't even care about this at all?"

"And why should I?" she shot back. "What's it to me if some dude get's bullied for his looks? It happens all the time! To tell you the truth I'm just glad it's not me. I'm happy being invisible. You sound like you a care a bit too much about this."

"Mich," Dez said softly as I prepared a retort, "I know you don't like to see anyone be bullied- neither do we. But you've seen it before and it never bothered you like this. Why are you so concerned about this guy?"

"Cuz we're friends." I looked at their shocked faces and corrected myself. "Well, not friends yet, but he's my music partner. We've chatted a few times, and I like him. I can't bear the fact that he's being bullied cuz he's ugly. The poor guy can't help it."

"Well, just remember this." Em stared intently at me. "You can be as friendly as you want with him in class, but hanging out with him will make you a target, which will make us targets too."

"Not necessarily," Dez corrected. "Be friends with him if you want, Mich. But **don't** get involved. I mean it."

"You know I want to stay out of everyone's way as much as you do. I won't get involved." I ripped up the note and dropped the pieces on the ground, faking a smile.

But I think I knew it wouldn't be as easy as that.

* * *

Closing my locker at the end of the next day, I found myself being accosted by one of the sub teachers from another class, her arms full of paperwork.

"Michigan Greene, is it?"

"Yeah," I answered, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder and looking at her curiously.

"I'm Miss Cabala, subbing for 2nd period English. One of the students in my class has been away yesterday and today, and the music teacher said you're his partner in music."

"Quasimodo?"

"Yes, that's him. I have all the homework he missed from all his classes, and since you're friendly with him, I was wondering if you could drop it off at his house so that he could catch up?"

I raised my eyebrows, surprised. "I don't even know where he lives!"

"I have the address right here." The teacher shuffled the papers around and pulled out a sheet with an address on it. "Of course, if it's too much out of your way I could ask someone who lives closer to him, but I just thought since you two know each other-"

"No, this is ok." I nodded and smiled, wondering how on earth this girl got a teaching job. She was so awkward! "That's just Boronia Heights. I know where it is, it's not too far. I'll take them to him."

"Good!" Miss Cabala took out a sheath of papers and handed it to me. "Sorry, if I put you out or anything-"

"No, no, don't worry, it's fine." I checked my watch. "Thanks for that. I have to go now."

She said goodbye and left, and I hurried out, looking for the car. Getting in, I told mum where we had to go, and we headed out.

* * *

I looked at the address I had been given and pointed to a street sign. "That's it. I think it's the house up the end."

Mum drove slowly up the street and pulled up outside a house, wrinkling her nose. "Are you sure it's the right address?"

I checked. "14 Notre-Dame Court, Boronia Heights. Yep, this is the place." I grabbed the bundle of folders and opened the door. "I'll be right back."

As I approached the little fence and half-heartedly rattled the rusty gate, I could see why mum was skeptical. The first thing I saw was the police car in the driveway. But that wasn't the only thing. Weeds wound around the hinges of the gate, making it virtually impossible to open, and as I climbed over and landed in the yard, the grass came up to my knees. Walking up to the almost invisible path, I winced as I kicked a bottle. The whole yard was messy and overgrown, littered with glass bottles of every colour, shape and size, some broken, some whole. What looked like a broken-down bike and a few rusty oil barrels added to the mess, and the pavers I walked on were crumbly and uneven. The house itself was falling to pieces, too- holes had rusted in the tin roof, and Trying to ignore the fear of snakes and who knew what else that might be hiding in the grass, I made my way to the door and paused, looking back at the car for reassurance, before knocking on the door.

After a few moments of silence, I knocked again, a little bit louder this time. Just as I thought no-one was coming and I had turned away, the door opened, and I found myself face-to-face with a man.

He had only opened the door a little, but I sized him up in a few seconds. Blood-shot eyes, thin, stubbly face, almost completely bald, holding a bottle... Was this Quasimodo's dad? _Poor him..._

"Whaddaya want?"

I gulped, realizing I was staring. "Oh, right, um, this is for Quasimodo, he hasn't been at school for a few days so they asked me to bring over his homework..." _And if he had been wagging, I just got him in trouble... damn... _I handed over the folders, hoping it wasn't so. "Is he ok?"

The man looked at me sharply, squinting unpleasantly. "What's it to ya?"

My eyes widened, taken aback. "Oh, er, nothing, it's just that he's my music partner and I just wondered if he's been sick or something-"

"He's fine." The man snatched the stuff out of my hands and, after peering behind me, presumably at the car that was still running on the street, slammed the door in my face.

I stood there, a little dazed. "Ok, then..." I turned on my heel and walked back, climbing the fence and jumping in the car, shaking my head. "Weird..."

"How'd it go?" Mum asked as she turned around and headed back the way we came.

"I think that was his dad... rude guy, he slammed the door in my face, and the only things he said were 'whaddya want', 'what's it to ya' and 'he's fine'. I feel sorry for Quasimodo if that's who he has to live with. And the bottles!"

"Who was that?" called a small voice from the back. I turned and smiled at Kate, who was all strapped into her booster seat.

"That was Quasimodo's dad."

"Kazi-modo's dad?"

"That's right."

She thought hard, and I could almost hear the cogs turning in her little brain. "Who's Kazi-modo?"

"My friend from school." Me and mum exchanged looks, grinning at the cuteness.

"He's got a weird name," Kate observed seriously.

"He does, doesn't he?" I sat back in my seat, staring at the road. "Quasimodo is quite the mouthful. Kazi, though... Kazi, Kaz... What do you think, Katie?"

"Kaz?"

I nodded, deciding to put the matter to my friend when I saw him next. "Kaz."

* * *

Which happened to be the next day. Walking into music class that Friday, my heart gave a weird little flip when I saw him sitting in the seat next to mine. I slid into my place and laid all my books out on the table- no clunking and sighs today! I turned towards him, feeling particularly cheerful. "Hey, you've been away." _Well, duh. Just point out the obvious, why don't cha?_ "Feeling better?"

He tensed, staring straight ahead. "What?"

I frowned at his bizarre reaction. "Um, you've been sick, right? So are you feeling any better?"

He relaxed and looked in my direction, not at me but somewhere over my shoulder. "Y-yeah, I guess."

I was about to ask what he had had when I saw it. "Oh!" I peered forward, staring at a bruise on his jaw. "How'd you get that?"

His hand flew protectively to his face and he turned away. "Oh, that? I f-fell."

"On your jaw?" I asked sceptically.

"Yes."

I couldn't help but notice that he had tensed up again. I shrugged and turned away, opening my notebook and flipping through, trying to come up with something else to say. _Well, there was that question about his name..._ "Quasimodo?"

He looked up from the desk. "Yes?"

"That's quite a long name, actually." _Again, stating the obvious. You're a genius, you know that?_ I shook off my demeaning inner monologue and continued. "Ever thought about shortening it?"

"Into w-what?"

"Well, my little sister says your name in a really cute way- Kazi-modo. So I was thinking, what about Kaz?"

He was silent, thinking it over. "H-how does she know my n-name?

"Oh... I dropped off your homework yesterday and she wanted to know whose house it was."

"That was you?"

"Yeah." I quieted down as the lesson began, but a little while later, when we had our laptops open, I continued. "Was the guy that came to the door your dad?"

"Yes."

"Is he a policeman or something? Cuz I saw a police car in the driveway."

"Yes."

"Ok." I shook my head, thinking of the man at the door and his rugged appearance, hoping he was less scary than he looked. _I certainly wouldn't want to live with him..._ "By the way, you didn't answer my question from before."

"W-what question?"

"What do you think of Kaz? As a nickname?"

He took a few moments to think about it. "I... I like it."

I smiled, relieved. "Good. So can I call you that?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

We worked silently after that, doing research, writing down notes, and I managed to snatch time to jot down bits of story into a document. As the end of the lesson drew closer, I suddenly remembered that I had something urgent to tell Quasimodo... but not there.

"I have to tell you something," I whispered, leaning in his direction but not taking my eyes of my screen. "It's important, but I can't say it here. I'll tell you at lunch, ok?"

"Ok."

We both nodded and went back to our work, and I wondered how exactly I was going to word what I had to say...

* * *

"You w-wanted to talk to me?"

I jumped, bashing my head on the bottom of my locker door. I slapped the locker wall and rubbed my head, glaring. "Damn! Don't do that!"

"Oh, I'm sorry..." Quasimodo- Kaz, now- opened his locker and started rummaging around, not looking at me.

I shook my head, picking up my bag and putting it in my locker. "No, it's ok, you just scared me. And yes, I do want to talk to you."

"About what?"

I looked straight at him, knowing I had to be quick. Even though I liked him, I knew that it wouldn't be good for people to see us talking outside of class. "Ok, here's the deal. I was talking to Esme the other day and she said she's planning to do something to you at the Halloween dance. If you were planning on going, I'd say don't. It wouldn't turn out very well."

He frowned. "Esme is kind to me. She would never do anything to hurt anyone."

"Oh, do you really believe that?"

"Yes I do!" Surprisingly, Kaz was starting to get rather animated. "I've s-spent time with her, I've talked to her. She's a nice girl. In fact, she asked me to the dance- as in, a date! I think she likes me."

"Quas- Kaz, Esme does not like you!" I knew what I was saying sounded mean, but he needed to know the truth, and this was the only way I could think of telling him. "She's only pretending! She wants to mock and humiliate you in front of everyone, because that's what she does. You have to believe me, she could never like you the way you want her to!"

"And why not?" He looked around and lowered his voice to an intense whisper. "Tell me! Is it because I'm ugly? Because I limp? Because I have a hunch? No, I've found that the world isn't all as shallow as that. Esme _likes me_. That's something that's never happened before, and I'm not going to let you ruin the one good thing that's ever happened to me!"

My eyes widened at his furious speech. He had never spoken so many words together before, nor had he ever cared so much about something as he did this. I was about to apologize and defend myself when footsteps came up behind me, and I felt a presence behind my back.

"Ready for lunch?" Esme asked him, completely ignoring me.

"Yes." Kaz took his bag out of his locker and started rummaging around, looking for his lunch.

"Well hurry up, we don't have all day."

I turned to look at her- arms crossed, striking a pose she probably thought was sexy or something. I had envied her looks for so long, the feeling of sadness when I looked at her hair seemed natural. But I forced myself to stop and turn back, refusing to envy her now. I hated her too much for that. Beside me, Kaz found his lunch and put his bag back in the locker, moving to close it. I had to do something, at least apologise for what he thought I was trying to do.

I turned to him and raised a hand, drawing his attention."Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I'm just trying to warn you-"

He glared at me and shut his locker. "I don't need your warnings!" With that, he turned around and left, him and Esme weaving through the students that had begun to congregate in the hallway, leaving me staring at his misshapen, retreating back.

What was meant to be a friendly warning had been blown wildly out of proportion. Did he honestly think I was trying to wreck everything for him? Was he really so blind as to believe that Esme actually cared for him? Obviously, yes. I let out a long breath, angry at me, him, Esme, everyone, and closed my eyes, trying to calm down. _I came to give a warning and that warning has been given. It is no longer any of my concern..._ I slapped the wall in annoyance and straightened up, zipping up my bag and heading into the crowds of students. Kaz was my friend and he was going to get hurt by a bitch who was leading him on with the express purpose of showing him up in front of everyone. Not my concern?

_The hell it isn't._

* * *

**_Wasn't sure which song to use with this chapter. Hope it works._**

**_Quasi's nickname is inspired by some fanart for a Disney RPG._**

**_Leave a review?_**


	6. Last Summer

**_A week and a half till the holidays, yay! It's winter over here, and nights are getting colder. It was freezing last night. Not cold enough for snow, we never get that here, but still damn cold._**

**_Ok, ok, enough about the weather. Here's the next chapter, just another filler before the actual plot happens. Read on!_**

* * *

It happened one summer  
It happened one time  
It happened forever  
For a short time  
A place for a moment  
An end to dream  
Forever I loved you  
Forever it seemed

One summer never ends  
One summer never began  
It keeps me standing still  
It takes all my will  
And then suddenly  
Last summer

'Suddenly, Last Summer'- The Motels.

* * *

All Friday I was stalking Quasi and Esme. I followed them at a discrete distance, tried to eavesdrop on them, tried to figure out what Esme was doing. When she wasn't with him, she was in the music room with her cronies, planning out her prank. I had tried to spy on them, as well. All to no avail. The room was guarded. All I knew was the prank would take place on the stage and required buckets, ropes and pulleys. I could only imagine what was going to happen.

Days passed, and all too soon the weekend was over.

Monday passed quietly, but I could feel the buzz in the air as people talked about the costumes they'd wear and speculated about the entertainment. Our art class was briefed on the materials and designs that would be used in decorating the hall the next day. I was a vessel of pent-up nervous energy, still angry from Friday but also filled with dread and a strange restlessness. Anyone else would think I was excited, but my friends recognized it for what it really was- the urge to tell an important secret. Only here, no-one would listen if I tried. Especially not the person it was meant for.

In music class, Kaz didn't even acknowledge my existence, and was too abashed by our last 'discussion' to try to speak to him. So we passed the entire lesson staring at our computers, the teacher, our books. Anywhere but at each other.

Lunchtime, I was forced by my own curiosity to watch as Esme flirted shamelessly with him, and he basked in the attention. The urge to bash his head against the wall, shake him, slap him around, hadn't disappeared, and the urge to strangle Esme, or drop a brick on her head, had intensified. In my illogical state I felt they both deserved it, but there was nothing I could do.

By Tuesday morning the excitement in the air had doubled. Art students were let off their usual classes so that they could start on the hall early, so when the bell rang we took as much paper, paint, streamers and miscellaneous art materials as we could carry and made our way to the hall. There, we were joined by Drama, Dance and Esme, who immediately took charge. Not surprisingly, all of us who were supposed to be ignorant of the plan were assigned to work well away from the stage, where all the action would be.

As I helped hang streamers and fairy lights on the walls, I kept an eye on Esme and her group. Along with decorating, they also seemed to be arranging and untangling ropes and setting up the pulley system. Needless to say, watching as the evil witch and her minions arranged Quasimodo's impending doom did not put me in the brightest of moods.

All day we worked on the hall. I was surprising how much effort it took to hang up lights and streamers, but it felt good to be doing some physical work instead of sitting in a chair all day.

That afternoon the office got another call from mum, informing me that I would have to wait for dad to pick me up again, and that this would probably be a regular occurrence. Again, the office advised me to wait inside, and again, I secretly determined to rebel.

Come end of school, as I was making my way to the side door, I passed Kaz and Esme, probably having their last deep-and-meaningful before his life was ruined forever. I clenched my teeth and ignored them, hurrying to what would soon become my usual spot.

Half an hour of frustratedly staring at a blank document with music blaring in my ears later, I saw Quasimodo come out and settle into the opposite bench, still ignoring me. And at that moment, I realized I didn't want it to continue like this, ignoring each other because both were to afraid to speak. After tonight his life would become a waking nightmare, and it was likely that we would never speak again except for the necessary exchanges in class. No matter how much I wanted to be his friend, self-preservation always came first. Now was the only time we had.

Making my decision, I collected up my stuff and moved myself to his bench. "I'm sorry," I blurted before he could say or do anything. He looked at me, a little bit surprised, and I took this as an invitation to continue, taking a deep breath and staring straight ahead.. "I'm not saying that I was wrong or that I'm sorry for saying what I did, but I'm sorry for upsetting you. I didn't mean anything degrading or nothing. It was meant to be just a friendly reminder, but I went too far. I hope you can forgive me."

There was a long silence, but when I finally looked at him, he was nodding. "Of course I f-forgive you."

"Good. I suppose we can put this behind us and never mention it again?"

"Yes."

"Good," I said again, now at a loss for words. We both looked away, still a little uneasy around each other, and I studied my blank screen for a while before bringing up my music folder. "Wanna listen to music again?"

"Yes, I-I'd like that."

"Anything in particular? I know you like Styx but do you have any other preferences?"

"Not really." He looked down, embarrassed. "I d-don't know very much music. W-what... what do you have?"

"Oh, ok... let's see." I browsed through folders and squinted at the tracks. "I have a whole folder of Taylor Swift, some One Direction, some Little Mix, some Kelly Clarkson, um... Owl City, Ed Sheeran, some YouTube stars that should be famous but aren't... I don't think any of this is 'guy stuff'." I turned the screen towards him. "I don't know if you've be interested in anything you see there, but take a look anyway."

I watch as he scanned the lists, none of the names sparking any recognition. He shook his head. "You like Taylor Swift a lot, so maybe..."

"You want to listen to her?" I nodded and handed him an earphone. "Ok." Bringing up the folder, I pressed play, and Kaz's musical education started.

* * *

Later, when my laptop ran out of charge and we were forced to actually talk to each other, Kaz asked me about my favorite song.

"Oh, that's a hard one. Probably... I think I'd have to say Everything Has Changed."

"Why?"

I smiled, shaking my head. "All of her songs are so relatable, and almost all of them seem to be taken from my diary sometimes. But even thought I haven't yet had a situation like that in Everything Has Changed, it's pretty much my favourite song at the moment- mostly because Ed Sheeran's in it too..."

He mulled on this. "How... how do the songs apply to your life?"

"Oh dear..." I bit my lip. "That would require a bit of background. Are you sure you're up for a sob story?"

He nodded.

"Ok, well... most of the relatable ones now are break-up songs, but 'You Belong With Me' was the first. When I was 14, I had this huge crush on Phoebus James. I adored him, and it just felt like that song had been written for me. Then at the end of last year we went out, and it lasted two months before he broke my heart. It was so sudden, I wasn't expecting anything like that. I thought we could last at least until the end of the year. We had fun, and I thought he was happy!" I fought down the memories that were rising up, knowing that if I gave in to them, I'd probably start crying. "So anyway, after that, break-up songs were my thing, and I think the best one is 'Cold As You', cuz he was cold. Damn cold. We used to play basketball on this little court with his friends, and it was like a place that was just for us. When I tried to go back, I took a friend with me cuz I didn't know how I'd be received, and he... he_ flirted_ with her, right in front of me. I couldn't believe it. Here we were, he had just broken up with me through my friends, not even face-to-face, and now he was flirting with my best friend who was right next to me. Who _does_ that? So yeah, I'd say I'd never felt anything as cold as him. There are others, but those two stick out for me."

By this time I was almost talking to myself, but I was jolted out of my depressing memories by Kaz, who hesitantly touched my arm. "I'm sorry," he said softly, looking at me properly for once.

I smiled a pained smile, blinking away my tears before they could fall. "It's fine. It's completely alright. That was nearly 9 months ago, I've gotten over it."

Kaz shook his head, and I knew that the only person I was fooling was myself. "Really?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I waved him away, sniffing. "Don't worry about it."

"Ok." He turned away.

"But thanks for caring." I traced patterns in my laptop lid, a little embarrassed for having burdened him with my pathetic-ness. "That's sweet of you, Kaz."

"You... You're welcome."

We sat in silence for a while, until a car pulled up and I jumped up, stuffing my laptop in my bag and heading for the fence. "See-ya."

"Bye."

I stopped and turned around. "Oh, by the way, good luck with your date tonight." What possessed me to say it I had no idea- maybe a chance of another warning?

"Oh... thanks."

I pursed my lips, wanting to try again, but then I shook my head and climbed the fence, racing to the car and dumping my stuff inside. Looking back, I sighed.

"You're going to need it," I said softly.

But he never heard it, and I doubt it would've done much good if he had. I waved forlornly and got in the car, and settled down for the ride home.

* * *

**_Short one for now, cuz i want to keep the next one by itself. Next chapter is the Costume Ball, and things happen..._**


	7. Hey Quasimodo

**_Here we go, ppl- The moment you've all been waiting for. It's been slow going until now, but after this hopefully it will get a lot more interesting. Here we have the Halloween Dance/Feast of Fools, where Mich watches Quasi get thoroughly humiliated in a video. I wanted her to be there at the dance and try to save him, but I figured this was more lifelike, since Mich isn't allowed to go anyway._**

**_Enough boringness, on with the story!_**

* * *

I stared forlornly at a rip in my black pants, shivering on the floor in front of my bedside table in nothing but my underwear and school shirt. It was Wednesday morning, and I had woken up at 7:30 and started at the ceiling till 8, not feeling up to school that day. In my mind I was wondering why I had the vague feeling that today was special in some way, like there was something I was supposed to do and I had forgotten. Now, as I wished for the thousandth time that I had the legs for skinny jeans and wondered if I could pull of the ripped pants look, I sighed and finished getting dressed, deciding not to care one way or the other.

Somewhere in the house, the phone rang, and one of the girls ran to answer it. A moment later, there was a yell.

"Mich, phone for you! It's Em!"

I pushed myself off the ground with a groan and trudged out to the dining room, dragging my feet. I took the phone offered and slouched against the table. "Yeah?"

"Mich?" Em asked.

"No, ya mum."

"Haha, you're hilarious. Listen, if you're still interested in the situation with that guy, go check your emails. I sent you the link to the video."

"What video?"

"Last night's video."

"Wha-?"

I heard her sigh noisily. "Halloween Dance prank, remember? Jeez, you're slow this morning."

"Oh my god." I slammed down the phone and raced into the study, where my laptop had been charging overnight. Opening the lid, I pressed the power button and tapped my feet impatiently as it booted up and redirected to the homepage. A few moments later I was typing in my Webmail password and scanning my list of emails for the one Em had sent. I found it and clicked the link, and a YouTube video appeared.

PARK RIDGE HIGH SCHOOL HALLOWEEN DANCE 2013- BEST PRANK EVER!

So read the title, and I paused it, nervously waiting for it load. As the little grey bar began to fill up, my fingers hovered over the mousepad. I wanted to see this, I needed to, but at the same time I didn't. _Damn, this is not going to be pretty..._

But my dilemma was solved by curiosity. Biting my lip, I braced myself and clicked play.

* * *

For a moment, the screen was black, faint strains of music and the sounds of people talking the only indications that the video was playing. Then the camera moved up and the profile of a girl filled the screen. She was scantily clad in a shiny gold corset, which managed to push her already-perfect boobs even higher and make her already-tiny waist even smaller, and a skirt that consisted of long strips of gauzy fabric draped in such a way as to show off every part of her legs when she moved. Her long curly hair fanned over her shoulders and her beautiful face wore an ecstatic expression.

"Hey guys!" she cried, waving both hands excitedly and tottering a little, while the person filming laughed.

"How much have you had?"

"Shut up and film." She winked at the camera. "So, welcome to the 7th Halloween Dance prank! As ya'll know we do this thing every year where we prank someone at the dance for everyone's entertainment. Well, forget all previous occasions cuz tonight is gonna be the biggest and best! We picked someone extra special to be our prank victim, and after months of planning and organizing, the night is set. So sit tight and stay close, cuz tonight is going to be epic!"

The scene cut to the hall, full of people dancing and laughing and yelling. Ahead, Esme stalked through the crowd, swinging her hips and jangling her gold jewellery, and jumped up on the stage with a microphone. "Hey, everyone, are ya'll having a good time?"

A universal roar of acknowledgement went up.

"What was that? I could quite hear that."

Another, louder, roar.

She leaned forward with a hand behind her ear. "Sorry, still didn't get it. How about a 'hell yeah'?"

"Hell yeah!" was immediately taken up.

"Huh?"

"HELL YEAH!" The sound was so loud that it turned everything to static for a moment.

Satisfied, Esme put her hand on her hip and stared into the camera, putting on what she probably thought was a sexy pout. "Well, it's about to get even better." A cheer went up and she smirked. "Ok, ok, settle down, they'll be time for that later, I promise. Now..." She paused as someone walked up to the stage and whispered something in her ear, and even from the distance the glint in her eye was visible. "Very good," she continued, winking at the girl. "Thank you. Alright, so , some of you might've known that there was going to be a contest, but most of you wouldn't have. For the last half-hour, I've had scouts selecting the best costumes, and now that the last entrant has been selected I'd like to ask all those with red ribbons to come up on stage, please."

A murmur started up as those selected made their way onto the stage, some in the crowd complaining about the lack of warning but most speculating excitedly about who they thought would win. After a moment on confusion, the group onstage organized themselves into a straight line. Such an assortment of costume would only be found in a cosplay shop- animals, superheros, movie characters and other crazy cosplays line the stage, some store-bought, others DIY. The was even a typical sheet-ghost. But the strangest thing of all was the ugly boy at the end of the line without a costume. He stood there in his ordinary shirt and trousers, fingering his red ribbon and and looking nervous, not understanding what he was up there for but happy to play along.

As the murmuring dulled to a whisper and the group onstage stood at attention, Esme was joined by a boy holding a cardboard crown.

"Ok, everyone up? Good. So, my cousin Clopin and I will be the judges of the competition, and we're going to need a minute or so of quiet while we decide."

The crowd watched silently as the pair of them walked the length of the stage and back, examining every contestant intently. Then, slowly, they started eliminating. Esme walked up to the ghost and tapped his (or her) shoulder whispering a few words in their ear, and the contestant nodded and made their way offstage. Then Clopin did the same with Superman. The same for a cat, a bunny, Indiana Jones, Pikachu, until finally they were left with just one. The crowd started murmuring again as they realized what was going on.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Esme cried as Clopin and dragged the winner to the center of the stage and held the crown above his head, "I give you the winner of the 2013 Halloween Dance Costume Contest, Quasimodo Frollo!"

The sound turned to static again as everyone cheered and clapped, and Esme watched smugly for a moment before raising her hands. "Alright people, quiet down." Turning to Quasimodo, who was fingering the crown with a look of pleasant surprise, she smiled and held out the mic. "Congratulations, Quasimodo. I'm so happy for you! I'm sure it took a long time to pull off the look, but it sure paid off! I'm sure you won't mind me asking, is that a mask or prosthetic makeup?"

A titter went around the audience, and the boy's expression changed from surprised to upset and confused, staring at her.

"I just love the detail that went into all of this!" continued the irrepressible Esme as muffled laughter began to echo around the hall. "Tell me, where can I get a costume like that?"

There was silence from Quasimodo as he struggled to understand what was happening, and Esme straightened up, unable to contain her smirk. "While he ponders his answer, some friends and I have taken the liberty of preparing some entertainment in honour of our winner. Please welcome to the stage the students from Drama and Dance!"

There was a smattering of applause as the buy was suddenly surrounded by a large group, who organized themselves around him, incidentally blocking any route of escape. Esme passed around microphones to about half of them and took her place in the middle, next to Quasimodo, then nodded to the DJ at the back. A fanfare of music began to play, and the group began to bop in time before the boys with microphones started to sing.

"Hey Quasimodo  
You sure look awful  
We've never seen you this close  
You're always hiding  
from everybody  
Half gargoyle, and half Park Ridge High ghost..."

At that, the girls broke in.

"Hey Quasimodo  
I wonder did you know  
When you walk down the hallway  
We hide our eyes now  
And keep our distance  
For fear that you'll come eat us alive!  
Who are you...?"

They held the last note together, and Quasimodo, after staring around in horror, tore off his crown and attempted to leave, only to have those at the exots push him back. He continued trying to leave, checking every exit and being repelled each time, as the song continued.

"Hey Quasimodo  
Who did your hairdo?"

One of the girls tweaked a lock of hair as he went past, then pulled her hand back as if it had been burned, a look of fear on her face.

"Is that a permanent wave?  
It's mighty girlie  
When it's that curly  
But we hear that red's all the rave..."

As he tried to push past, he was cornered by two boys and a girl, who got right down to his level for the next bit of the song.

"Hey Quasimodo  
Who picked your wardrobe?  
Your clothing fits you so well!" They laughed, and on of the boys slapped his back and sang right in his ear.

"It looks much bolder,  
With one padded shoulder!  
Feel confident that no one can tell...  
Who are you...?"  
As the last note soared again, Quasimodo was pushed back into the middle of the stage, and most of the group began to dance, only 4- 3 boys and Esme- of them standing with mics and surrounding the poor boy.

"Do you think he understands the mockery and ridicule?" asked Clopin.

"And better yet I wonder if we're safe if he should start to drool!" continued another boy.

"And can so large a cranium contain a tiny brainium, that's weak..."

"Well the story they tell," continued Esme as the music softened, getting right next to him with her beautiful voice, "is he's deaf to our yells, but still has the power to speak..."

"And think?" asked Clopin with a grin.

"And stink!"

The music continued, and the others joined the group in dancing around him, bopping and weaving and smiling, as Quasimodo desperately tried once again to escape. But the moving bodies and loud music confused him, and time and time again he let himself be pushed back. Giving up, he stood still and stared at the ground, and as the others prepared for more singing, two girls cornered him and leaned on his shoulders at either side, smiling at the audience, who by now were jumping around and cheering. Esme took her place at the front of everyone and raised the microphone, her voice dominating everyone else's.

"Hey Quasimodo  
Where are your parents?  
I've heard they looked suspiciously alike!" This last bit was whisper-sung to the audience, a shocked look on her face, earning more cheers and whistles. Quasimodo looked up and glared at her, his expression unusually angry as the song went on.

"Is that the reason, that makes you perfect,  
for this, playing the part over us all...  
Of king of fools!"

As the note was held for longer than usual, everyone moved back to the edges of the stage, leaving Quasimodo in the middle by himself. Esme grabbed a rope and raised the mic for the last bit, her triumph evident.

"King... of... Fools!"

At the last word, Esme pulled the rope, and before the ecstatic view of the hyped-up audience, a stream of green slime rained down from the ceiling directly onto Quasimodo. As the last note faded out, there was a shocked silence from everyone in the hall... and then such a clamoring, clapping, cheering, wall of noise rang out as the audience went crazy that the static on the video made it hard to make any of it out. The barricade of people on the stage bowed and finally parted, and the forlorn, crooked, slime-covered figure onstage stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot, before snapping out of his shock and running off the stage and out of the hall, leaving a trail of jeering, laughing people in his wake.

The video cut to outside again, shaking and wobbling as the person holding the camera ran after the fleeing figure. They ran through the carpark and onto the street, the camera-man shouting incoherent jeers at Quasimodo and laughing madly, and stood there filming until the humiliated boy was out of sight.

Another scene- this one back inside, where Esme and Phoebus were crooning a love song. Then the video became multiple clips of bad footage, showing dancing, drinking, kissing, and finally the performers stumbling out to their cars, drunk and hyper, laughing and yelling about what a great night it was. And then it ended.

* * *

I sat at my computer, staring shocked at the screen, unable to comprehend what I had just seen. Of all her pranks, this had to be the worst. I couldn't believe how far she had come, and how far she was happy to go, just to provide some entertainment! But I had hated her before, and the feelings I had for her now were nothing new. Stronger was the compassion I had for poor Quasimodo, although in all fairness he had refused to listen to my warnings. This was party his own damn fault. But I couldn't feel like that for long. I was overwhelmed by anger and horror and pity and the desire to make things right, smooth things over. But it wasn't possible. For now that Kaz would no longer have Esme's protection, hell was about to be unleashed on his head. Things would never be the same. His whole life would become worse than it ever was before, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

Especially me.

* * *

**_There you go. It's happened. All hell is to break loose. What did you think?_**

**_'Hey Quasimodo' is an actual song by Dennis Deyoung, but there's no video for it, and you can only find lyrics online. I have the album it was on, so I have the song. (haha suckers- JK :))_**

**_Please review and tell me what you think._**


	8. Just Be

**_Another sort-of filler. _**

**_The girls get into a bit of a fight in this chapter, and Mich gets angry at Frollo._**

**_Read on :)_**

* * *

Did you make your bed?  
Did you lose your head?  
Are you still awake  
From the things you said

You close your eyes  
But the sleep won't come  
`Cause you can't escape  
What's said and done

Did you draw the line  
In the sand again  
Did you make a stand  
Out on a limb

Don't be so hard on yourself  
'Cause you can't change the world  
You can't change the world alone  
Just be

'Just Be'- Styx.

* * *

Walking in the school gates that morning, I was greeted by the sight of my three unusually sober-faced friends standing there waiting for me. I nodded to them and headed into the grounds, hearing them follow me quietly. Out of the corner of my eye I could see them exchanging glances, as if they wanted to say something but were afraid of what my reaction would be. But I decided to ignore it, and we walking silently up the path together.

I didn't blame them for being weary of me. I was sure I looked like a thundercloud- if not my sour expression, then my clenched fists definitely gave away that I was not happy. At all. Plus they had more than likely all seen the video, and they knew what my reaction would've been and how angry I could get about things. So they had every reason to be cautious.

As the winter breeze stirred the leaves on the path and lifted my hair, I wrapped my arms around myself and looked around, noticing as we entered the main building that all the other students there stood in groups of two or three, staring at phones and iPods. Tinny music blared out of one as we passed it, and I immediately recognized it as that hateful song that I had heard earlier that morning. Almost everyone who was watching the video was discreetly bopping up and down or giggling madly, and I was tempted to snatch the devices out of their hands and throw them on the roof or something, but instead I stared resolutely at the ground and kept walking, clenching my teeth.

"So," Em started quietly as we approached her locker, carefully dialing her combination and not looking at me, "I suppose you went and watched the video, then?"

I looked at her as if to say 'Duh!'.

"It's had a few hundred thousand views already, you know, and almost as many likes." She shook her head, dumping her books in the locker. "This thing has gone viral."

"Poor guy," said Bex, sounding surprisingly sympathetic. "Picking on someone for their looks is one thing, but what Esme did was really mean."

_Really mean. Huh. That, and a whole lot more words I'm not allowed to say._ I pursed my lips, suddenly feeling the need to blame someone, and turned to Em. "You should've done something."

"Me? What could I do?"

"Maybe tried to speak up, stop what was going to happen?" I was careful lower my voice so as not to attract attention, but the intensity of my whisper belied my frustration. And, to Em, was pretty much as good as yelling. "You were right there, you knew what she was planning and you knew how I feel about it! Why didn't you do something?"

She looked at me as if I had suddenly grown an extra head. "What, like run up on stage and get slimed with him in the process?" She held up a hand, counting off with her fingers. "Ok, first of all, I didn't know exactly what she was going to do, and secondly, everything happened too fast for me to do anything. And thirdly, I prefer to keep my reputation intact and under Esme's radar, thank you very much."

"Do you realize how freaking selfish you sound?" I was beginning to get worked up, but I didn't bother trying to calm down. It was too late for that now. "All you care about is staying invisible and ignoring the bad stuff around you- never mind that Kaz was going to be publicly humiliated and then bullied for the rest of his life, as long as you've got your precious little reputation, everything's fine and dandy!"

"Michigan!" Dez reproached sternly but quietly, frowning at me. "That's enough!"

But the damage was done. I had meant everything I said, and Em knew it, too. She slammed her locker shut and took a step towards me, crossing her arms and glaring at me. "Well, I'm sorry if I don't live up to all your grand expectations and inspirational standards, Mich, but some of us would like to get through high school without our lives being made a living hell. If you're so obsessed with helping that boy and you knew what was going to happen, why didn't you do something last night?"

"Because I couldn't go to the dance, stupid, otherwise I would've."

Em rolled her eyes, her tone sarcastic. "Yeah, right. I bet if push came to shove you'd just stand there in the crowd looking like a fish, too afraid to put your words into action, because that's the way you are."

My eyes widened in outrage, then narrowed at her, giving her a penetrating evil eye. "Maybe I want to change that. Maybe I'm over being a selfish prig and want to help people instead."

Em set her mouth in a firm line, eyes glinting. "Fine. But don't expect me to follow in your almighty footsteps."

"Believe me, I don't anymore."

"Good."

"Good," I said back, staring her down until she finally took a step back and looked away.

"Come on, guys," she said coolly, hoisting her bag on her shoulder and turning away. "Let's get to classes before the bell rings."

And without waiting to see if they were following, she headed down the hallway. After a moment of hesitation, the others followed her, leaving me shocked and shaken, feeling empty. I had never fought with any of my friends before, and I found I had no idea what to do now. What happened next? Was I still part of the group? Should I go and apologise? After all, I had accused her of being a selfish prig... not a crime punishable by death, since we often exchanged playful insults. But I hadn't been joking this time. I had insulted my friend for real, and it seemed the right thing to do to go and make up...

NO. I squared my shoulders and forced myself to start walking, ignoring those around me who had heard some of the argument and were looking on in interest, wondering if there was going to be a catfight in the works like the bored, stupid high-schoolers they were. Em was always like that, afraid of what others might think and stubborn as hell. I had meant what I said- every word of it. And she had insulted me, too- she had accused me of being a coward, which totally wasn't true... was it?

I shook my head forcefully, my nails biting into my palms as I walked down the hallway. I was shy, not cowardly, and I could prove it if I wanted to. Em was wrong about me, and I didn't need to let it bother me anymore. She would come around soon enough. Meanwhile, I had more important things to worry about- like finding Quasimodo before Esme did...

* * *

As the day progressed it became abundantly clear that Kaz was not at school. Once again, I had to deal with strange feelings of loneliness and disappointment, made all the stronger now that there was no guarantee that I had any friends left. Whether he was sick (from the slime? Maybe he had caught a cold form being out late at night?) or just hiding out of shame, I knew that he couldn't stay away forever.

Surprisingly, Esme was also absent. I found out through the course of the day that she had been suspended- what for, I never completely understood, but it seemed the teachers thought she went too far and this was her punishment. Some punishment suspension was, when all it was was a day off school, but it meant that there was peace in the school for once, instead of perpetual fear.

The next day, though, she was back. When she entered the school that Thursday surrounded by the boys and a few loyal fans, they were greeted with cheers, whistles and applause, and she smugly basked in the approval of the student body. I stood at my locker, watching her go past, fully aware that though they were cheering her on, the majority of the students were tense and expectant. A fearful atmosphere had appeared, and I knew that everyone was waiting for the inevitable torture to begin. But it wouldn't happen yet, for Kaz was still away.

To my relief, my friends were not avoiding me. We met at the gates as usual and walked in together, but the playful banter between us had almost completely ceased, and the friendly atmosphere had turned decidedly frosty. Bex and Dez were quieter than usual, and Em hardly looked at me, let alone spoke. Privately, I was beginning to feel that I should apologise, try to set things straight, but I didn't, hoping it would blow over soon. Besides, she had insulted me too and she had been completely wrong, whereas I knew I was right. Why should I apologise first?

Such reasonings did not make me feel any better about it, but stubbornness was a trait we seemed to share.

When Friday came around and Quasimodo still didn't show, I knew what I would be doing that afternoon. By now, however, it was something to look forward to, since I really wanted to see him and offer some kind of comfort before Esme got her claws into him. The fox had been making the most of her fame, and the prank was the most talked of event since the first one. She was basking in the glory and attention, surrounded by half the school at lunchtimes as she shared her plans for dominance and general enemy making with her 'friends'. I spent half the day in my sanctuary, the art room, but my creativity was all but nonexistent, stifled by my anger at Esme. When it did appear, I made use of it by imagining the most creative ways to kill the evil witch.

At the end of the day I was approached by a teacher with a familiar pile of papers in her arms. I took the from her without needing any explanations and told her they would be delivered, and got out of there quickly. Mum was all too happy to oblige, and soon we were heading into Boronia, looking for a street that would quickly become very familiar to me.

* * *

Mum drove us into Notre-Dame Ct and parked a little further away, under a tree, and I made my way over to the little, almost abandoned-looking house. The police car was there, and the yard was still overgrown, but as I climbed the fence I saw that the pile of bottles was gone and some of the rusty junk had disappear, although whether it had been kicked under the grass or completely removed I couldn't tell, and and frankly didn't want to find out. Although I was quaking inside at the thought of meeting the man I had met before, I held my head high and forced myself to walked confidently up the path towards the door. I was not a coward. I was not going to show my weakness. But all the same I really hoped that Kaz would answer the door instead of the scary-looking policeman.

Ha. When had luck ever gone my way?

The door opened on my third round of knocking, and there stood the policeman, uniform and all, even the badge. 'Officer Frollo', it read; faded and chipped, pinned onto a faded uniform, worn by a tired, faded man. Or that's what it looked like to me, anyway.

In the second or two before I spoke, I tried to size him up and found the results a little confusing. He didn't look drunk, exactly, but he had the air of a drinker (or maybe the smell, i couldn't really tell) and there was a glass in his hand instead of a bottle. I knew he was rude from the last time we met, but there was also something dangerous about him that made me feel like shrinking into the ground, tucking myself into a ball and crawling away to hide. Most policemen were authoritative, maybe stern and rigid, but nothing like this. I could imagine this Frollo person striking fear into any heart he encountered, even hardened criminals. That's what he was doing to me, anyway.

"Yes?" he grunted, staring down at me.

I gulped, trying to find my voice. What was that I had thought earlier, about not being weak or cowardly? "I've, ah, brought Quasimodo's homework again. It's been a little while and he's missed quite a bit of work, so..."

Frollo took the papers from me without a word and went to shut the door, but I wasn't finished yet. No matter how scary this man was, I need to know about Kaz.

"Wait, please..." I held up a hand, catching his attention. "I just have to know: how is he?"

"What?" He squinted at me as if it was weird for me to be asking about his son. And for some reason, that kinda bothered me.

I shrugged it off and elaborated. "Well, it's just that I saw what happened on Tuesday night and I wanted to know if he's ok. It was horrible, what they did, and I wanted to-"

"He got what he deserved."

I stared at him, shocked. "What?"

"It was his own fault, what happened." The man glared at me as if I was the one to blame. "I forbade him from going. I told him what would happen, how he would be treated, and I expressly told him he couldn't go. But the stupid boy disobeyed me. I have no sympathy for him. He got what he deserved."

Although I privately thought that there was a little truth in what he said, I wasn't about to let it go. "You _knew_ this would happen?"

Frollo laughed, a harsh, croaky sound followed by a cough. "Of course I did. He is ugly, deformed- the perfect target for bullies. How could it not happen? I knew that he would be treated like something less than human, like a monster. People like him do not have friends, only enemies."

"That's not completely true- I'm his friend."

"Oh, a do-gooder." Frollo laughed again. "Quasimodo does not need your pity, silly girl. He needs to learn to stand on his own two feet and see the world for what it really is. So stop pretending and go home."

The door began to close again, and I tried to stop it. "But if I could just see him-"

He looked at me coldly. "He is being punished for his disobedience and can see no-one. Goodbye."

And despite my best efforts, the door closed. I glared at the wood and mottled glass as if it was at fault, my hands clenched at my sides, before turning around and stalking back to the car, fuming.

* * *

**_Not much to say about this. Leave a review? Cuz i kind of need them at the moment._**


	9. A Place in this World

**_Chapter 9, yay :) _**

**_Here, Esme gets her first post-dance jabs at Quasi and Mich gets upset. _**

**_In other news, my mum has only just told me that no-one names their girl 'Esme' anymore and it's actually an old lady name. Well she could of told me that before :(_**

**_But I think it's a pretty name, so whatever._**

* * *

I don't know what I want, so don't ask me  
Cause I'm still trying to figure it out  
Don't know what's down this road, I'm just walking  
Trying to see through the rain coming down  
Even though I'm not the only one  
Who feels the way I do

I'm alone, on my own, and that's all I know  
I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh but life goes on  
Oh, I'm just a girl, trying to find a place in this world.

'A Place in this World'- Taylor Swift

* * *

The atmosphere was tense, electric, almost like the air of calm before the storm, and the crowd of students in the hallway had slowed. They clustered against the walls, forgetting what they were supposed to be doing and instead staring at one end of the hallway and muttering among themselves.

It was Monday, lunchtime, and I had just put my stuff away and was heading out with Dez when all activity stopped, and we stopped too, wondering what was going on. My heart sank as I glanced behind me at the object of everyone's attention and realized the inevitable was about to happen.

Quasimodo limped down the corridor, eyes on the ground, very aware that everyone else's were on him. No, not everyone's... a whisper went around as someone appeared at the other end of the hallway. A someone whose eyes glinted when she saw the pathetic figure shuffling to his locker among the stares of his peers. A someone who fluffed up her hair and stalked through the students gathered, an evil smirk on her face as her entourage followed closely behind, stopping a few meters from the misshapen boy who was trying to ignore her.

This someone, of course, was Esme.

The entire crowd of students gathered- which was growing by the minute- seemed to hold it's breath as she crossed her arms and shook her head at him.

"Quasimodo."

She said it slowly, tasting it, the word both smooth and sharp on her tongue, like a blade. In fact that was a perfect comparison- Esme's tongue could be likened to a dagger, using words to wound and maim as effectively as any blade. I had personally experienced this in times past and knew what it was like to have her attention. But Quasimodo walked up and opened his locker, arranging his stuff as if nothing was the matter, like he wasn't the object of attention of the scariest person in the school. But I knew this was just a pretense.

And so did Esme. She examined her nails and continued airily, her expression belying the sharpness of her words. "You know, I'm surprised you dared to show your ugly face again after what happened at the dance. I would've thought you'd get the hint that we don't want you around here and stay away."

To anyone else, it would've seemed like this jab got no reaction whatsoever from Kaz, but I saw the way his shoulders tensed up and knew it had found a mark. He may have known he was ugly, but everything is always different when someone else says it. A small part of my mind wondered when and why I had allowed myself to study him so closely that I could recognize his reactions, but it was buried in my preoccupation in the current situation and my anger at Esme. As it was, Dez was constantly trying to catch my eye to remind me to stay calm. I knew that she was concerned that I would do something rash, but I doubted she could hold me back if I decided to stop what was happening.

"Are you amazingly brave or just incredibly stupid?" Esme continued, taking a few lazy steps forward. "Do we have to spell it out to you? Personally I though we did that pretty well on Tuesday night, but I suppose someone with a face like that can't be expected to have a very big brain."

There was an appreciative titter from the crowd, and I couldn't stop myself from clenching my teeth and balling my hands into fist, desperately wanting to stop this abuse before it got too far. But I was too late for that. And what I do, anyway, alone in a crowd of many? I would only be laughed at and scorned. At best I would transfer her attention from him to me, and only temporarily. So I kept my silence, feeling Dez's warning touch on my hand and hearing her sensible voice in my head, telling me not to get involved.

Finally deciding he could no longer pretend to be busy in his locker, Quasimodo shut the door and started walking away, clutching his books to his chest tightly, as if they had the power to save him. Esme followed him slowly, the crowd parting for both of them.

"Quasimodo." She said it again, rolling the word around in her mouth. "You know what it means, don't you?"

I did. I winced, my heart going out to Kaz, as I was sure he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

She looked around at everyone. "Do you all want to know?"

"Yes!" cried the crowd.

_Oh damn_, I thought.

"Half. Formed."

_Ohhhh damn._

Kaz stopped in his tracks, whether out of shock or annoyance I couldn't tell. Personally I would've kept walking as fast as I could to get out of there, but he just stood there, letting everyone talk and laugh about the shameful meaning of his name and make fun of him all around him.

Esme leaned forward, making sure everyone could hear. "Unfinished. The Almost-Person. Extremely accurate, isn't it? I wonder who it was that named you so well?"

Kaz seemed rooted to the spot with shame. Although he was turned away from me, I could clearly see that his ears were red with embarrassment and his shoulders were tensed up completely, as if expecting a blow. I was almost shaking with angers, but I could only watch as she approached him and took note of his cowering stance. This was what she lived for- to belittle and intimidate people, to make them feel useless and hated. Unknowingly, he was giving her exactly what she wanted.

"Do you know," she addressed the crowd over his head, "I had to pretend to like him all this time? Ugh!" She rolled her eyes and pulled a face. "Helping him, spending time with him, having to smile at that godawful face everyday. But oh, when I asked him to the dance!" She began to laugh, a loud, obnoxious sound without any mirth. "You should've seen his face! He actually thought I was asking for a date! Can you imagine?"

The students around me began to laugh with her, and she stared down at him, shaking her head. "Did you honestly believe that I was going to date you? That I could possibly fall in love with someone with a face like yours? A face and a body that only a mother could love, if that. And we have to look at you every day!" She looked around with an expression of horror. "How are we going to survive the next year-and-a-half?"

Everyone continued to laugh and jeer, and Esme stood looking at the cowering Quasimodo, a satisfied smile stretching across her face. I was boiling, almost ready to go up there and slap her and defend him, but Dez's hand was on my arm, gently retraining me, reminding me of what would happen if I did anything. As I watched, Quasimodo lifted his eyes from the floor and accidentally caught mine. His expression was pleading, mortified. That was all I needed. I opened my mouth to speak up, tell them all to shut up and leave him alone, yell at them about compassion and humanity and bullying and 'he can't help it'. But as I held his hypnotizing gaze and listened to the laughter and ridicule around me, the words dried up. It was like my tongue suddenly shriveled up in my mouth. I was mute, speechless.

And then I saw Em, in the crowd behind him, staring straight at me. And all of a sudden I realized she was right. I was afraid. I stood there, eyes wide and mouth gaping exactly like a fish, and I knew that she had been right the whole time. I couldn't speak up, I couldn't do anything, because I was too afraid. Her words echoed in my mind: _That's the way you are._

_That's the way I am. A liar. A hypocrite. _

_A coward._

Time slowed down as both of them stared at me, Kaz silently asking for help and Em gazing triumphantly at my stricken face. And I couldn't take it anymore. I shook my head in a fearful apology and backed away, tears of shame clouding my vision. Just before I turned away I saw Kaz's face fall as he realised I wasn't going to help him.

And then, I ran.

* * *

Let me just say now, I had never cried at school. Not when I was 8 and skinned both knees badly enough to leave scars, not when I was 10 and forgot my lunch and had to starve all day, not when I got sick, not when I was bullied for most of first and second grade. I had always been a tough kid. But that chain was broken that day as I sat in the bathroom stall, curled into a ball on the toilet seat, sobbing my heart out.

Part of me was berating myself being the one crying about this- I wasn't under fire, it had nothing to do with me. If anything Kaz should be the one crying. Oh damn... A picture rose in my head of him in the same position as me in the boys bathroom, tears streaming down his face. That was enough to set me off again.

It wasn't just the pain of seeing someone I'd grown attached to being treated like crap- though that was part of it. I was disgusted with myself for not doing anything about it. After all I had said to my friends, I had been too cowardly to back it up. What kind of pathetic excuse for a human being was I if I couldn't stand up for my friends?

I thought back to the scene. Quasimodo had looked at me like I was some kind of savior. He knew that I was going to do something. And then I dashed his hope to pieces. I was no friend. He probably saw me like I was no better than anyone else, and there was no way I could change his opinion of me now.

And Em... the look she had given me. I knew that if we ever spoke again, she wouldn't tell me I told you so or anything like that, but that look... it was just as bad. I would remember it, and she knew it. She wouldn't bring it up, but I would always think about it.

I sighed shakily and wiped my eyes, trying to get a hold of myself, and lowered my feet to the floor, about to stand up. But the sound of footsteps approaching made me freeze, and I quickly lifted them up again, not wanting to go out be caught with the tell-tale signs of crying. I listened to tell-tale clack of heeled boots stop in front of a mirror, followed by the slip-slap of sandles and a girly giggle.

"Did you see how fast he ran?" asked one of them, voice full of amusement, prompting a laugh from the other girl that I instantly recognized.

"What about his reaction when I told him what his name means?"

"That was hilarious. Where do you come up with that stuff?"

"I researched it. Good, isn't it?"

I peered through the crack in the door to see Esme staring in the mirror, touching up her mascara, while the other girl- I vaguely recognized her from Drama club- was adjusting her hair. And I sighed with relief that I didn't go out there looking like I did. No doubt they would find something to criticize me about, and I would probably have to tell them what I was crying about, and that would be the start of another year of torment... I frowned. What was I doing, worrying about myself, when someone else was suffering at the hands of this very girl?

"You coming to the thing next Friday? Or do I even have to ask?"

"Oh, that..." For once, Esme actually sounded sheepish. "I was going to, but I'm working that night. I might be able to make it later if I'm lucky, though."

"What do you do that makes you work at night? That's messed up!"

"Oh, just a little job at the PRT, nothing special. Pays well, so it's worth it."

_A little job. LOL. _I had heard rumours about her 'little job' at the Park Ridge Tavern. Nothing truly scandalous, just solo and group entertainment, mostly dancing. Specifically sexy dancing. So yeah, maybe a bit scandalous. That was Esme for you.

"But you'll come?"

"Depends when I finish. I'll try."

"Cool."

They finished primping and left, and I let out a breath and stood up slowly. Making my way out of the stall, I shook my head at myself in the mirror and splashed some water on my face. I looked a mess, but hopefully no-one would notice. As the bell began to ring, I sighed and walked out, ready to go to class.

* * *

The days passed in a blur as I tried to avoid everyone. I spent more time than ever in the art-room, not wanting to witness any more scenes between Esme and Kaz. There was no need, now that I knew I was too afraid to do anything about it. Still, I was still forced to watch the insults and laughter that he was assaulted with between classes.

We didn't speak, Kaz and I, unless absolutely necessary. We worked together on our projects and greeted each other at the lockers, but I made sure never to walk too close to him or look at him for too long. He probably hated me anyway, and I just couldn't handle the guilt that would come from staring at all the hurt in those beautiful eyes. Tuesday afternoon, I left him on his bench and didn't try to be friendly. I was too ashamed for that.

We were no longer going to be friends, I could feel it. What I couldn't feel was ok about it.

And neither could I forsee the changes that would come soon, sooner that I would've thought and more surprising than I could've imagined. It happened on Friday night, the night that Esme went to work at the Park Ridge Tavern...

* * *

**_So the next chapter will be based off the book instead of the movie and will be told from someone else's POV. Till then, mind reviewing?_**


	10. Friday Night

**_Basically, this is the chapter 'The Dangers of Following a Pretty Woman in the Street at Night', if anyone's read the book. I rather like how this turned out. Thanks to my reviewers for their support and comments :)_**

* * *

It was about 6 o'clock at night, already dark, and the carpark of the Park Ridge Tavern was relatively full. Inside the tavern, people talked and ate and drank, watching the screens mounted on the walls that showed lucky numbers, the news or music videos. Some hung by the bar, others tiptoed into the function room to catch a glance of the special performance. In the kitchen, waiters and cooks in plain black shirts and white aprons ran around, taking orders, picking up plates and cooking meals. Except for one. In a corner of the kitchen leaning on a disused bench was a tall, lanky, blond boy, mid-teens, wearing the uniform but not doing any work. Instead, he was writing furtively in a notebook, muttering to himself as he did.

_"Death is the cook of Nature; and we find _  
_Meat dressèd several ways to please her mind. _  
_Some meats she roasts with fevers, burning hot, _  
_And some she boils with... with... dropsies... is that a word? ok, dropsies in a pot. _  
_Some for jelly consuming by degrees, _  
_And some with ulcers, gravy out to squeeze. _  
_Some flesh as sage she stuffs with... with... with... ah! gouts, and pains, _  
_Others for tender meat hangs up in chains-"_

"Oi, kid!"

Pierre gasped and jumped to attention, his book falling out of his hands onto the floor. He winced as it hit the ground and quickly stooped to pick it up, bashing his head on the counter on the way up, provoking a yelp of pain. He stood up again, eying the angry-looking man in front of him with apprehension. "Yes sir!"

The man stomped over and snatched the book out of his hand, chucking it at the bin as he shoved him towards the door. "You come here to work, not stand around composing sonnets! Now get out there and serve the customers!"

"Yes sir!" Pierre stumbled past the rushing cooks and waiters and grabbed the tray of pizza, glancing back at the bin where his precious book had been thrown before going out into the dining area.

Pierre Gringoire was 16 but had left school, having more important things to worry about than his education. His only family being a sick mother who couldn't do anything other than sew, he was forced to work to help pay the bills. A dreamer with his head in the clouds, he fancied himself a great poet and philosopher and wrote about serious subjects like religion and nature, passing poetry and essays off to whatever magazine, publisher or agent that would have them. More often than not he was rejected for reasons like 'too boring', 'not understandable' and 'what the hell are these pointless scribbles anyway?'. Nevertheless he persisted in writing, hoping to one day strike out and become a famous author. For now, he was stuck cleaning the floors and waiting tables, but one day, just one day, someone might see his potential...

Pierre blinked and came back down to earth with a bump, looking for the table he was supposed to be serving. Out the front, the door slid open to admit another group of people, all drinking and laughing raucously... except for one. The man had his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he slouched in behind everyone else. As the group examined placards for a table that wasn't reserved, he broke away and skulked into the function room. Pierre followed him with his eyes, squinting a little as he tried to remember where he had seen him before. He was definitely familiar.

Wracking his brain, he found the pizza table and unloaded his burden, then went to serve the group of young people. "Hi guys, you waiting on anything?"

"Nah, we just got here. What's the special tonight?"

"Pizza and beer for $10. You'll have to order it up there."

While they discussed among themselves what they'd get and a few broke away to the counter, Pierre went off to clear a few tables and came back to the kitchen, arms laden with dirty dishes. He was met at the door by a girl, someone who he was friendly with and had saved his butt more than a few times. Her name was strange and foreign, and he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. All he knew now was that she was annoyed and holding his beloved book, a sight that had become familiar in the last few weeks.

"You'll have to be more careful!" she hissed, shoving it in his face. He only just managed to grab it with his teeth before it fell into an almost-empty bowl of soup. "I can't keep saving your precious book from becoming garbage every time you get busted not doing your work. Found it in the bin. _Again_. Just managed to grab it before they took them out."

Pierre dumped the dishes on the bench next to the sink and quickly leafed though the book to make sure it was all there. "Thanks, Li... Lio, isn't it?"

"Liénarde. But yeah, you can call me Lio if you like." Her face softened. "So, what is it with all this poetry stuff anyway? What's so important that you're willing to be on the boss's bad side all the time?"

"I'm a writer, Lio. I can't help it if inspiration strikes at inappropriate times."

"A real, professional writer? Do you get paid? Are you any good?"

Pierre let out a breath, thrilled that someone was finally interested. "I'm not professional yet, but I've submitted to several prominent literary magazines and I hope to hear back from them very soon. I won't get paid for anything until I'm accepted, and yes, I do think I am pretty good, if I do say so myself. I was top of the class in English when I went to school-" A sudden buzzing sound cut through their conversation, and he grabbed his phone from his back pocket. "That must be one of them. 'Scuse me a moment." Lio turned to the book on the counter as Pierre eager answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Good evening, am I speaking to Mr Pierre Gringoire?" The voice was female- tired and wooden, as if she was reading off a script. Pierre closed his eyes and forced himself to breath slowly before answering.

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm Adelaide Brown from Epoch. It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that your submission 'The Good Judgment of Madame the Virgin Mary' was rejected for publishing due to it's length and it's inability to engage. However, we thank you for the-"

"Wait, wait, wait." Pierre gripped his phone harder, eyes widening in horror. "I worked hard on that piece. It took me nearly 6 months to perfect. And you're telling me that it's been rejected? Did you even read it?"

"We assure you that your submission was read carefully by our publishers and editors."

"Then why are you rejecting it? It's a brilliant work of poetry!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but it was simply impossible for us to publish your poetry at this time."

"But-"

"Please accept our sincere apologies. Thank you for the opportunity to consider your work and thank you for supporting Epoch Magazine with your reading, writing, and subscribing. Goodnight."

"Wait-!"

The line clicked off, and Pierre let the mobile slip out of his hand and hit the bench with a metallic 'thud', not caring if he broke it. He sighed shakily and let his body slump against the bench, burying his face in his hands while Lio laid a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"Bad news?"

He groaned, rubbing his eyes to prevent any tears from slipping out. "Just the usual." He stood up slowly and looked at her. "I thought I was so close. I worked so hard, made so many drafts, rewrote it again and again to get it just right. I had all my hopes and dreams riding on that piece. And now it's just... gone."

Lio shook her head sympathetically. "Oh, Pierre-"

"Do you know why they rejected it? Do you know what that Adelaide Brown told me?" He pounded the bench, not waiting for a reply. "She said it's too long and boring to be even considered for publication. Too long and boring!"

"Well..." Lio bit her lip and glanced guiltily at his precious book of poetry. "I suppose you could... I don't know... cut it down a little... maybe?"

He stared at her. "You think so too!"

"What?"

"You think it's long and boring and rubbish, too! Go on, admit it!"

"No, Pierre, I didn't say that!"

"But you're thinking it, aren't you?"

"No!"

He gazed into her eyes, intense and angry.

Lio sighed and dropped her gaze to the floor uncomfortably. "Well, yes, maybe. But you're a good writer, Pierre. You just need to try something different."

"Like what?"

"Stuff that people like to read, like Romance and Drama and Action-"

"Romance!" Pierre collapsed on the bench again. "Drama! Action! I hope the time will never come when I'll have to lower myself to such... trivial... trash!"

She bit back a laugh at his dramatics and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "All right, Pierre, whatever you say." She glanced around and caught the eye of one of the cooks, who was giving them a dirty look, and then at the rapid stacking-up plates of food near the door. "I think it's time to get back to work now, don't you? Or do you want your book thrown out for good this time?"

Pierre straightened up and gave a watery smile. "You're right, of course. I've gotta 'soldier on' and 'smile through the hard times' and all that jazz. Don't wanna lose my job, do I?" He cleared his throat and headed for the table orders. "Thanks, Lio."

"Anytime, man. Hey!"

He turned around.

She snatched up his book and chucked it over. "Heads up!"

He caught it neatly and tucked it into his apron pocket, nodded his thanks and got back to work.

* * *

_Some time later..._

Pierre poked his head through the door, momentarily stunned by the noise and dimmed lights, then balanced his trays carefully as he pushed into the room. By rights he shouldn't be here, for it was a special performance and it was over-18s only, but they were short on staff and he was the only one available to serve at that moment. So he stopped for a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and then strolled in, trying not to look illegal.

Up the front was a girl, dancing on a stage. There was nothing inherently 'adult' about her, nothing that exactly screamed 'sex', but her skimpy clothes and suggestive dancing made sure every tipsy, leering eye was on her, including Pierre's for a moment. In the crazy, dancing lights and semi-darkness and loud music and sparkles that shone off her gold costume when the lights hit it, she looked like some kind of ethereal being, a dark fairy with golden scales that twisted and spun to the music and cast a spell on every person in the room. And then he shook his head and tore his eyes away and realized that she was just a young girl, a dancer who was probably desperate for money and attention. Heck, she didn't look any older than him- which made what she was doing pretty illegal. But then, he wasn't supposed be there either, so he wasn't going to say anything.

Coming to his senses, he began to serve out the dishes on his tray, all the while casting glances back at the dancer on the stage. So disconnected was he from his surroundings that when the man near him spoke and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What was that, sir?"

The man said ignored him, and Pierre realized that he hadn't been spoken to- the man was muttering to himself as he stared at the dancer. And then he saw that it was the familiar man he had seen before- the one who he knew but couldn't remember. Sidling closer, he managed to make out the words 'disgusting display' and 'parading around like a harlot' before the stranger took notice of him, suddenly whipping his head around to stare at him. "What?"

Pierre fumbled with his tray and managed to save the drink before it spilled everywhere. "Oh, sorry, your beer, sir."

The man grabbed it and turned back with not an ounce of recognition, and Pierre shrugged and stood back, watching the girl again. She was pretty- extremely pretty- with masses of dark hair piled on top of her head, dark skin and large black eyes that flashed as she glanced around at them. Her eyes caught his for a moment, and he turned away, embarrassed. His tray empty, there was no reason for him to stay, and if he did he would probably get into trouble. So he slowly back out, eyes on the dancer. When he got to the door he looked back at the man, who was gazing at her as intensely as everyone else. But there was one difference- while most of them had drunken grins and leers, he was brooding, almost angry. And for some reason, this troubled the boy.

* * *

_Later still..._

Chucking his apron at the hangers, Pierre picked up his bag and headed out the back door, his shift over. He stopped next to the giant rubbish bins and leaned against one, ignoring the smell, mentally and physically exhausted from the day's work. Looking down at the book in his hand, he scowled, remembering the humiliating phone call from Epoch magazine that still burned in his memory.

"Who am I kidding?" he groaned, holding the book up to the light. It was nearly full, which usually gave him a thrill of pride for what he could do. Now, all his precious poems and snippets of essays suddenly seemed meaningless junk. No-one wanted them. They were useless. And junk deserves to be thrown out.

Gritting his teeth, he stepped back and hurled the book over the side of the bin, turning away quickly and starting to walk away. But each step quickly grew slower as he realized what he had done. He couldn't just throw away all the work he had done that year. And Lio almost believed in him now. She may not have been his biggest fan, but she would be so disappointed to know that he had given up.

_What have I done?_

With a gasp, he turned and ran back, grabbed the top of the bin and heaved himself up. Looking down into the piles of rotting food and garbage, he spotted it lying neatly atop a tower of food scraps and reached for it. And then his foot slipped. With a yelp, he tumbled into the bin.

Muttering curses, he looked down at the mess he had gotten himself in and reached for the edge. With much huffing, puffing and grumbling, he managed to heave himself back up just in time for the kitchen door to open. Not wanting to be caught in such an embarrassing situation, he quietly lowered himself back into the garbage and peered over the side at whoever had come out.

It was the dancing girl. Although she was wearing jeans and a leather jacket and her hair was down, he knew it was her from the smooth way she moved and her large dark eyes. Also, her shiny gold costume was visible underneath the jacket. He watch as she hoisted her bag on her shoulder and headed away from him, around the building towards the carpark. When she was out of sight, he once again climbed to the top of the bin and jumped down, his shoes making dull, wet squelches on the cement. Making a face, he scraped them off as best he could and then cleaned off his book by wiping it on the back of his jeans. Sighing with both the relief that it was safe and that he hadn't been spotted by the girl, he stuffed it in his bag and headed in the same direction the dancer had.

Turning the corner, he stopped and stumbled back into the shadows when he found her leaning against the wall, staring at her phone. He stood there staring at her shamelessly, illogically afraid of her seeing him. He took the time to examine her face by the light of her phone and found that while her features were perfect , she looked nothing like what she had before. On the stage, she looked fearless, sultry, confident. Here, she looked vulnerable, almost afraid. Her beautiful eyes were sad. She looked like she need a friend.

His fear wearing off, he was about to step out in front of her and perhaps introduce himself when she straightened up, tucked her phone in her pocket and headed off again. He moved to follow but a sudden pull at his shoelaces nearly tripped him up, and with a sigh he bent down to tie them again as she disappeared into the carpark.

And then, she screamed.

* * *

In the carpark, almost every spot was taken, and the place was full of shadows. One of the few remaining streetlights that weren't broken shone enough light on the scene to allow Pierre to see the dancing girl struggling in the arms of two men, who were trying to stifle her cries.

Pierre gasped. "Hey, put her down! Security! Help! Help!" he shouted, and ran forward bravely. One of the men turned in his direction; the slanted light revealed a face that was grotesque and terrifying.

Pierre did not take to flight, but neither did he advance another step.

The person came towards him and shoved him away; Pierre fell backwards onto the bitumen and lay there, stunned and winded as he watched him carry the girl towards a car that was bathed in shadows, the other man following with something that gleamed in his hand. Metal handcuffs? The girl continued to struggle and cry out, and Pierre watched helplessly from the ground.

"Stop! Both of you, stop and put her down!" suddenly was called out from the front of the Tavern, and half a dozen guys who had heard Pierre's shout raced out towards the trio, the place's bouncer in the lead.

The would-be kidnappers stopped, surprised, and in a moment of panic dropped the girl and fled for the car. Before anyone could do anything, they had started the engine and raced away.

The rescuers gathered around the frightened girl, who by now was crying and shaking uncontrollably. They helped her up and asked her questions, then made sure she had all her stuff and escorted her into the Tavern. One stopped on his way in and offered a hand to Pierre, who gladly took it and got up, puffing slightly. Dusting himself off, he thanked the man and made to leave, but the bouncer stopped him.

"I'm afraid you can't go just yet, sir. I think the police will want to talk to you."

"Police? But I didn't-" He stopped. "Ohhhh, because I'm a witness. Ok, but they'd better get here soon cuz I have to go home."

He followed them inside, and pulled out his phone to ring his mother. _I might be here for a while..._

* * *

**_What did you think? Drop me a review and tell me whether I should make Pierre a permanent character, and if so, how? I always like hearing people's ideas :)_**


	11. Defying Gravity

**_I had fun writing this. Finally Mich is going to man up a bit and take a stand. Hope you enjoy, cuz I sure did :)_**

* * *

Something has changed within me  
Something is not the same  
I'm through with playing by the rules  
Of someone else's game  
Too late for second-guessing  
Too late to go back to sleep  
It's time to trust my instincts  
Close my eyes and leap!

I'm through accepting limits  
'cause someone says they're so  
Some things I cannot change  
But till I try, I'll never know!  
Too long I've been afraid of  
Losing love I guess I've lost  
Well, if that's love  
It comes at much too high a cost!

I'd sooner buy defying gravity  
Kiss me goodbye, I'm defying gravity  
And you can't pull me down.

'Defying Gravity'- Wicked.

* * *

Monday morning, about the middle of August.

Picture, if you will, lunchtime at Park Ridge High. The hallways are empty at first, silent besides the droning of teachers behind closed doors. Then the bell rings- if 'rings' is the proper word. More like blares a loud, insistent beeping through the loudspeakers and into everyone's head, giving them a blaring headache that seems to compete with the bell with it's pounding annoyance. Many constantly wish that the school would upgrade to a proper bell like the school in America or England. Others look forward to the sound simply because it heralds the end to classes and the beginning of a short burst of freedom.

Where was I again? Oh, right- Lunchtime.

The halls are full before the bell stops, a mass of yelling and screaming teenagers jostling for place, trying to get to their locker so that they can grab their food and go. Smaller ones get pushed out of the way by the bigger boys and have to patiently wait for them to leave, not bothering to protest the injustice. They know the drill- and the consequences. So they stand to the side and sigh to themselves, invisible in the crowd.

There are some, of course, who actually like being invisible. It bring with it a kind of freedom that introverts love- if no one can see you, no one notices when you make mistakes or say something stupid. You don't have to make conversation with someone who can't see you (or chooses not to). These invisible people hear things, see things, go places. Or, as in most cases, just sneak around and do what they need to do every day.

But anyway...

In a few minutes, half the chaotic crowd has gone, relocated to the eating areas or the oval, migrated together in the many cliques and clubs and crowds that make up the school. The rest make it to the lockers and get their lunches, then vamoose before anyone catches them, hoping to stay out of sight of the many bullies and mean kids who roam the halls spoiling for a fight. And a fight is one of the few things that can be counted on every day. Someone always manages to be on someone else's bad side.

And today is no exception, as a few people are about to find out.

* * *

As the majority of the crowd began to clear, I stepped out of the classroom and into the fray, weaving between groups catching up on gossip, couples engaging in embarrassing PDA, and other kids just going about their normal, daily routine, heading for the hallway that contained my locker.

Stopping at the corner to let a pack of giggling cheerleaders past (why we had cheerleaders at all I didn't know, since they weren't used for 'cheerleader stuff' and we didn't have any events that needed them anyway), I stooped down to re-tie my shoelaces and slipped off my jacket while I was at it, the midday heats tarting to get to me. Winter here was more of a joke- chilly in the mornings and evenings, but in the middle of the day it could get as hot as summer. _Some winter_, I thought gloomily, straightening up and then jerking back quickly, eyes wide, for now I found myself face-to-face with Quasimodo. He stood there in front of me, looking like he was waiting for something. I quickly stepped back, blinking in surprise at the suddenness of it, and stared at him, my mouth, embarrassingly, still hanging half-open from the gasp I only just managed to suppress. We gazed at each other for a few seconds, me gaping stupidly and him waiting patiently for... what? This was the first time we had made eye contact in about a week or two since Esme's triumph. I had been too ashamed to look at him, and he... well, God only knew what was going through his mind, but he probably hated me, both for being right about her and for not having the guts to stick up for him. We had almost completely ignored each other, even managing to do so in Music when we had to work together on a report. Instead of consulting, planning and writing it together, we had simply worked independently and put our separate pieces together. We had managed very well with no communication of any kind, and now we were facing each other in the hallway, neither of us knowing what the other was going to do. The awkwardness was so palpable I could almost taste it, and it wasn't a pleasant taste either.

After a few moments of this strange, silent staring contest, he glanced away, over at a point somewhere behind me, then looked back at me. He did it again, and I followed his gaze over my shoulder to see... the bubblers.

Oh. Woops.

I had been standing directly in front of the water fountain, and he clearly wanted me to move.

I moved out of the way, feeling like a big idiot, and started walking again, trying not to think about those gorgeous green eyes that I had been trying hard not look at the whole time, for fear that I'd be mesmerized again. I was starting to be a little worried about the amount of influence that boy's eyes had over me. I seemed to lose my ability to think and speak coherently when I was looking at them, and to be honest it was kinda starting to freak me out.

This was pretty much exactly what I was thinking when the jerks showed up.

"Hey, freak!"

I turned, looking for the source of the insult. Quasi had been just about to take a drink, but he stopped too, and I immediately recognized the familiar tensing of the shoulders that happened every time something bad happened. The insult could've been meant for anyone, but it was like, from that one phrase, he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

"Yo, half-formed unfinished freakazoid from planet ugly, we're talking to you!"

Aaaannnd now I did too. I bit my lip and clutched my books tightly to my chest as the three boys came into view. Andrew Hallows was the one who had just thrown that extremely creative insult- he was part of The Gang, a royal sleaze-bag and probably, if rumors were to be believed, Esme's secondary boyfriend. They surrounded Quasi in a loose triangle, blocking any way out, and stood there as they began to draw a crowd. Curious onlookers had heard the insults and were drifting in from lunch to see what was obviously going to be a fight of some kind, and soon a ring of people surrounded the four of them. Now there was definitely no way out.

"So..." drawled one of them, drawing out the word more than was necessary to prolong suspense. With a sinking feeling I realized it was Phoebus. _How far he has fallen from the lovable guy I used to know,_ I mused sadly as I watched the scene with trepidation. Now was usually the time I ran away, ignored what was happening, but this time... no. Not this time. Something was different. I wanted to stay and see what they would do, if only out of curiosity. So I stayed, lost in the crowd that had gathered, all of them excited at the prospect of a fight.

"What do we have here?"

"I-I j-just want to g-get a drink," Quasi stammered, looking at the ground. It was the first time I had heard him speak to anyone besides me, and the sound of his voice, so soft and reticent and fearful, produced a strange reaction in me. All at once, my heart gave a great thump and my throat went dry, though whether this was from fear or something else I couldn't tell. I had an inkling that it might have been 'something else', but I didn't have time to ponder it. I didn't _want_ to ponder it. Still, it kept me stumped until Phoebus spoke again.

"A drink, huh?" He looked around to make sure everyone was watching, a trick he had probably learned from Esme. "Well, I don't think you deserve a drink. Not after what you did to Esme. I think you deserve something different. Something... more filling. Maybe a knuckle sandwich?" He suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the front of Quasi's jacket, pulled him close with a scowl, his fist raised.

"I-I-I d-didn't..." gasped Quasi, dropping his books and raising his hands in a feeble appeal for mercy. "I-I-I-I d-d-d..."

"No, I know you 'd-d-didn't'," mocked Phoebus, getting up close in his face, "Everyone knows you didn't succeed. But you tried, didn't you?" He shoved the other boy back, making him crash into the fountain, and held him there. "What were you thinking, huh? Was it a chance for revenge? Or maybe you thought you'd try something on a girl for once, have little bit of fun? 'Cause of course the only way that could happen is if you kidnapped her. Was that it, then? Got a little lonely, alone in your room with your fantasies, and decided to go nab yourself a poor unsuspecting girl? What kind of sicko are you, huh?"

As he continued shoving Quasi against the bubblers and spitting more hurtful remarks in his face, my eyes widened as I realized what he was talking about. I myself had only just found out about it.

* * *

That morning, the school had been buzzing.

As I walked up the path to the main building, pulling my new black-and-white varsity jacket ($30 from SES) tightly around me and silently contemplating life, the universe and everything, I noticed that there seemed to be an uncommon amount of local newspapers floating around, either held by shocked-looking gossipers or flapping around campus in the breeze. I paid no attention at first, being more occupied with getting out of the cold August air and wondering if I was going to sit with my friends today or wallow in self-pity in the art-room, but by the time I had made it to my locker I couldn't help but notice everyone else's attention directed on the newspaper, which seemed to be the focus of the aforementioned 'buzz'. Having spent the weekend with my family cleaning the house and watching old sci-fi re-runs, I wasn't at all up-to-date with local events.

That's why, when I picked up the 'Jimboomba Times' from in front of my locker and glanced at the first page, I was completely and utterly flabbergasted at what I saw: the words "SCHOOLGIRL ALMOST ABDUCTED" splashed across the headlines, accompanied by a grainy picture of Esme Azarola crying. Scanning the article inside, I learned, to my shock, that Esme had been attacked in the carpark of the Park Ridge Tavern by two men who nearly managed to drag her to their car, but was saved by the quick thinking of a boy who alerted staff and tried, unsuccessfully, to fight the would-be kidnappers off. Later, during questioning, she had accused a fellow student of being one of the attackers, which seemed to be backed up by a witness's rather vague memory of his appearance. But after questioning the accused, who had an alibi supported by a parent who also happened to be a well-known and trusted police officer, the witness retracted his statement and despite Esme's insistence, the charges were dropped. It had all happened quite quickly over the weekend and was now almost old news, and though I sympathized with Esme and wondered about the situation, I hadn't made any connections.

* * *

But now, hearing Phoebus accusing Quasi of the unthinkable, I remembered that Quasi's dad was a police officer and probably the only one to be able to support his alibi, for as far as I could see the boy never went out of the house. But the matter had already been resolved. Did everyone still believe he had done it? Esme evidently did. Or perhaps her wild accusations were just another way to ruin his life. _Quasi may be quiet and secretive and kinda freaky-looking, and she was making his life miserable, but he would never do something like that... would he?_ I shook my head forcefully, angry at myself for even thinking such a thing. _No. Of course not._

Phoebus leaned closer, bending Quasi back against the fountain in a way that looked excruciating with his hunch. "Thought you'd try and hurt my girlfriend, did you? Thought no-one would find out?"

Quasimodo's eyes were bulging out of his head with fear and pain, terror all over his warped features. "N-n-n-no, I-I-I-"

"You can deny it all you want, but we know the truth, don't we? No-one believes your alibi, no-one believes your lies. And now you're going to get what you deserve."

My hands flew to my mouth, my books dropping unheeded to the ground as Phoebus' fist connected with Quasi's stomach and the deformed boy doubled over, gasping and wheezing in pain. The crowd "Ohhh-ed" in excitement and began to cheer, all of them watching with horrible fascination. Everyone loved a good fight.

Everyone accept me.

I stood there, hands clasped to my mouth, tears in my eyes and a churning feeling in my stomach as Phoebus starting beating up my friend. With each punch I flinched, while the crowd laughed and egged him on. Quasi never cried out, and I realized that this had happened before, probably many times before. _So that's what he meant when he said they hurt him. This probably happened at every school he's ever been to._ I felt so powerless, standing there watching him feebly trying to protect himself from the blows. _He could easily defend himself, but he doesn't want to. Why? Why isn't he defending himself_? Andrew and Brett picked him up off the floor and shoved him towards Phoebus, who caught him and shoved him at the lockers. The torture went on, and I through my horror and and tears I felt something growing in me, something reaching up from deep in my heart and filling me up. My lungs constricted and my chest was tight; I felt like I was choking on it. I was angry, really, truly, seriously angry. This was nothing like my irritation at Esme, the world and my sisters, this was pure rage. My hands dropped to the side, fists clenched and shaking, and my tears seemed to dry up in an instant. Every punch, every shove, made it stronger. I was being taken over, and I didn't even care. I think I knew what was going to happen even then. The sight of Quasimodo, lying choking and gasping and bleeding on the floor, cemented it. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was pushing through the crowd and to the front, where Phoebus was standing over Quasi, about to reach down and yank him up for another round. He never got a chance to. I grabbed his shoulder, turned him around and punched him in the face.

He fell.

The crowd quieted down so fast it was like someone had flipped a switch.

I stood above Phoebus, who was clutching his face in pain and staring up at me in shock, and stared down at him, ignoring the pain in my hand. "That's enough," I said quietly, but loud enough so that the entire crowd of people gathered could hear. "That's bloody enough, you hear me?"

He did, but he didn't like it. He glared at me and was about to retort when someone else interrupted our little scene with a phrase that would strike fear into anyone's heart in that situation.

"TEACHERS COMING!"

The crowd erupted in panic and started draining away, crashing into each other in their haste to get away before the teacher caught them. I gave Phoebus one last scathing glare before turning to Quasi, who was curled up in a ball on the floor, and grabbed his arm. "Get up."

He uncurled and stared at me with disbelief, and I shook him impatiently. "Come on, we have to go. Here, I'll help you up."

He took my hand and eased himself up, and I swallowed my horror as I saw the extent of his injuries. His nose was bleeding, and his face was covered in bruises that were already turning purple. From the way he held himself I guessed there were similar bruises up and down his body. I didn't want to hurt him anymore than he was already, but we had to hurry before we were caught. Andrew and Brett were already helping up Phoebus and dusting him off, and he was holding a tissue to his nose to staunch the blood. I felt a brief jolt of fear when I saw what I had done, but that quickly changed to satisfaction, for I had finally done something that I'd wanted to do to him for a long time, and it felt pretty good.

But the teacher was indeed coming. I looked around and spied a side door, and grabbed his hand and ran through it just as the teacher came into view. I could hear her briskly asking Phoebus what had happened, and him giving a lame excuse- "I fell, miss!"- before I pulled Quasi through another door opposite and we found ourselves outside the building. I quickly got my bearings and found a toilet block nearby, and before anyone could see I had shut us both up in one of the unisex staff toilets.

Safe.

I locked the door and let out a shaky breath as the full extent of what had happened and what I had done came back to me. I had stood up for Quasimodo. I had punched Phoebus in the face. Everyone had seen it. Both Esme and Phoebus would probably be out to get me now. And I sure as hell wouldn't be invisible anymore.

Damn.

I pulled myself out of my musings and looked over at Quasi, who was sitting on the toilet seat trying to catch his breath, still shaking. The sight of his injuries shocked me again and I quickly grabbed huge wad of toilet paper and ran it under the water, then tried to clean up his face. As soon as my hands got close he jerked away, eying me apprehensively, but after a moment he leaned forward again, a little calmer, and I quickly washed off the dried blood from his face, trying not to think about how close we were. He was so close that if it was any other situation I could just lean forward another few inches and close the distance between- My eyes widened and I stopped for a moment, my face and neck heating up as I tried to bury the thought. _Where the hell did that come from?_

I threw away the wet tissues and gave him some dry ones to staunch his nose, avoiding his eyes as I looked him over. "Maybe you should come to the sink. There's still blood in your jacket. And your hair."

He nodded and got up, his legs a bit wobbly from the shock still, and I turned on the tap and motioned for him to dip his head in. He did, and I washed out the blood, admiring the colour of his hair as I did. Not even Bex had such vibrant red hair._ Maybe I should dye my hair again soon..._

I suddenly remembered what he had been doing before the boys had appeared. Gently pushing his head out of the sink, I washed my hands and cupped them under the water. "Still thirsty?"

He looked at me, surprised.

"You did say you wanted a drink."

So he drank. Later on I would wonder why I didn't think it was weird for him to be drinking out of my hands, but at that moment I was only thinking about helping a friend. When he had finished drinking and wiped his mouth dry, he thanked me quietly and turned away. For a moment, I though I saw him wipe his eyes, too. But I wasn't finished yet. I tapped his shoulder and tugged on his jacket. "You should probably take this off."

He hesitated, obviously not wanting to give it up.

"It'll be easier," I added.

Sighing, he unzipped and shrugged out of it, and I gasped when I saw why he'd wanted to keep it on. There were cuts and bruises all over his arms, some fresh from today and others, strangely, obviously older than a few days. _What has he been doing...?_

He saw me looking and looked away, trying to hide them from my view but obviously unable to. I said nothing, though, and took the jacket and started washing it in silence.

"So, are you ok?" I asked after a few moments of secretly observing him.

I could hardly hear his reply, but I was sure he mumbled "No, I just bleed for fun."

"All, right, no need to get snarky-" I stopped to process what he said and smiled a little. "You know, I think that's the first time I've ever heard sarcasm from you. Well done."

He humphed, turning away to get some more toilet paper, and I finished washing the jacket and laid it over the sink. He finally stopped bleeding a short time after and threw out the tissue, then looked at me expectantly, as if to say 'what do I do now?'.

"Oh, right." I checked my watch and found we had about 10 minutes before the bell rang, then tried to think of what to do. I didn't like the idea of him going out there without me and probably getting beaten up again, but he couldn't stay in the toilet for the rest of the day. Where could he go where he'd be safe...? I almost laughed out loud when it came to me.

"I have a place for you to go," I told him, unlocking the door and peering out. The area was almost empty, so we tiptoed out and I lead him around the school, avoiding people until we stopped in front of the door to the art-room. I unlocked it and stepped in, beckoning him in after me, turned on the lights and pulled out a few chairs. "Here you go."

He stood in front of me, tapping his foot nervously. "W-why are you helping me? W-why did you stand up for me?"

"I was angry." I sat down and idly remembered that our books were still out there on the floor somewhere. "I couldn't stand there and do nothing, like usual. You were getting hurt. Besides, I've been wanting to punch that guy for a long time, so he had it coming."

"B-but why?"

I looked down. "I felt ashamed. All this time you've been getting bullied and I never did anything even though I could've. I'm sorry for that. But I wanted to help you all the time. I guess what really got me mad was that you were being falsely accused. I hate that."

"So... you don't believe I did it?"

I stood up and went to the door as the bell rang. "Of course I don't believe you did it, Kaz. I know you too well. You'd never do something like that." I checked the corridor outside, then looked back at him with a smile. "Ok, you can stay in here for the rest of the day. No-one ever come here, so you should be safe. I'll come and check on you later."

He nodded soberly, and I left, confident that he would be ok.

* * *

**_Reviews? Just to let me know what you think?_**

**_Also, just randomly, what's your favourite musical? Mine is 'Wicked' :)_**


	12. Lego House

**_So, last chapter, Mich finally took a stand and helped Quasimodo. This chapter, the girls are introduced, do some Esme-bashing and start questioning Mich's judgement, and another face gets slammed. Trying not to give too much away. You know what? Why don't I just let you find out for yourself. _**

**_Read on and don't forget to review :)_**

* * *

I'm gonna paint you by numbers and color you in  
If things go right we can frame it, and put you on a wall

And it's so hard to say it but I've been here before  
And I'll surrender up my heart and swap it for yours

I'm out of touch, I'm out of love  
I'll pick you up when you're getting down  
And out of all these things I've done I think I love you better now

I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind, I'll do it all for you in time  
And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now.

'Lego House'- Ed Sheeran.

* * *

Everything suddenly seemed a lot brighter now, somehow. I felt free, like someone had shoved all the guilt and bad feelings I had into a bottle and thrown it into the ocean for someone else to find. I was no longer preoccupied with anger over the situation. For the first time in a while, I was able to pay attention properly in class that afternoon, even surprising the teacher a few times by not only answering but getting it right. Of course I thought of Quasimodo and everything that had happened, but I didn't dwell on the situation. It felt resolved- for now, anyway. I knew things weren't finished yet- not by a long shot- but it felt so good to know that I had done something right that I let myself forget, just for a few moments, my change in status that would have inevitably occurred.

I was by no means invisible anymore.

I couldn't help but notice how people already looked at me and whispered about me and speculated about me now in class. I couldn't pretend not to see it. It was the very thing that my friends and I had feared for a long time, being the centre of everyone's attention and vulnerable to being picked on. But somehow, it wasn't my main concern anymore. There was something else I had to do now.

I had to set things straight with my friends.

* * *

Pushing through the hordes of smelly, noisy teenagers that once again crowded the halls at second break, I grabbed my lunchbag from my locker, ignoring the stares that followed me, and made my way outside to our usual eating spot- the roots of and old, dead tree that sat between the soccer field and the basketball courts. Sure enough, just as I expected, there sat Em, Dez and Bex, deep in conversation, which they broke off as soon as they saw me coming. I slowed down a little when I saw this, shocked at the idea that they were talking about me. My paranoia kicked into overdrive. What were they saying? What were they planning? Were they gonna kick me out? Had they heard about what happened earlier and decided they couldn't be friends with a sympathiser?

It took me a few moments, but I managed to calm down, paste on a smile and keep going, and if necessary, face the music.

When I reached them, Dez opened her mouth to say something, but I quickly held up my hand and sat down in front of them. "No, I have to say something first and I want you all to hear it." I looked directly at Em. "Em, I'm sorry for calling you a selfish prig and all the other things I said. It wasn't the right way to treat a friend, and I hope you can forgive me. You were right, for the most part- you saw me that day the first time Esme ragged on him. I've been a coward and a bad friend. I'm sorry."

The girls exchanged glances, and Dez looked pointedly at Em, who cleared her throat self-consciously. "Yes, fine, I forgive you. I'm sorry too- like you said, what I said was true. But I shouldn't have said it. I was just fed up, I guess. But I am sorry now. Are we good now?"

I stuck out my hand, relieved. "We are definitely good now."

"We're glad to have you back, Mich," Bex said, leaning forward as Em shook my hand. I couldn't tell whether her eyes were shining with excitement or it was just the light on her glasses. Probably both. "Now, is it true, what everyone's saying about you?"

"I guess it depends on what they're saying." I fiddled with my paper bag, suddenly uneasy. The fact that everyone was talking about me was daunting enough, but not knowing what was going to happen next was kinda scary when you're used to being under the radar. Couple that with the knowledge that your school was known by everyone as 'one of those schools' and I had myself a pretty terrifying situation. Other schools didn't avoid taking the bus with our students for nothing.

"They're saying that you punched Phoebus's lights out and defended Quasimodo when he was bashing him up." She peered at my downcast eyes. "Is it true?"

"Yes." I shrugged at their wide eyes. "What? He was being beat up. There was blood. I got angry. I decided to do something about it. And," here I started laughing, "I punched Phoebus James in the face, which I've wanted to do for a _really_ long time."

Dez shook her head. "But that's not all. There's also rumors going around that you and Quasimodo are an item and Esme's going to... well, she's going to kill you."

I shrugged again. "Let her try. It's not like I'm scared or anything."

Bex nudged me. "Liar."

"Ok, so maybe I am a little worried." I opened my lunchbag and pulled a face. "But there's nothing I can do about it now. I'll just have to take it as it comes."

"Wow, you're sure brave."

"No I'm not, I'm stupid. This wasn't well-thought-out or clever." I sighed and stood up. "If Esme's going to kill me, she'll try to take my friends down too. I should probably stop hanging out with you guys now."

"Oh, no, Mich, we're all friends, you don't have to-"

"But she's got a point," Em interrupted Dez. "Esme will target us _because_ we're friends with her. That's the way she works."

"Which is why staying away from you is protecting you." I made to leave, but Dez put up a hand to stop me.

"Where will you go?"

"The art room, to eat with Kaz."

Em snatched up her lunch and jumped up to join me. "I'm coming with you."

"Wait, what? But you just said-"

Dez got up too, followed closely by Bex. "I think I will too."

"Me too."

"But didn't you hear what I just said?" I protested. "You can't be seen with me!"

"So just make sure we aren't seen." She crossed her arms. "I want to meet this 'Kaz' of yours and see what it is about him that made you change your mind about everything."

I looked at them, gathered around me and waiting patiently for me to agree, and had to smile. These were the girls I knew and loved- strong, dependable, fun and awesome. Why had I ever thought anything bad about them? "Alright, you can meet him." I turned to Bex, who was hopping around excitedly. "But please don't overwhelm him with craziness. I don't know how much more of this day he can take."

"Yeah, first being bashed up for something he didn't do, then be saved by a knight in shining armor..." Em said jokingly.

"Oh, please." I started walking, heading for the side pathway that would take us around the edge of the school instead of through it. I didn't want to take any risks of being seen. As I did, I was flooded with relief for the fact that my friends obviously didn't believe the 'kidnapping' thing either. They knew better than to believe that I would protect a dangerous person.

Bex caught up and nudged me, and now there really was a glint in her eye. "So, 'Kaz'. Is that some kind of nickname?"

I looked at my feet, watching her out of the corner of my eye. "Yeah...?"

Dez joined me on the other side. "Who came up with that one?"

"Me, mostly."

Em looked at me pointedly. "Really?"

"Problem?" I asked defensively.

"Oh. My. Gosh." Em skipped ahead and stopped in front of me, forcing me to stop too. "You gave him a nickname?" She threw her head back and laughed incredulously. "A nickname? Seriously? You only nickname people you're very close to, Mich. Like us. You don't just nickname random guys who you decide to befriend. Once you name it, you become attached to it."

"But Quasimodo is a long name, and besides, it was actually Katie who gave me the idea!" I pushed past her and kept walking, peering around the corner and sticking to the outside of the building. The girls followed closely behind me, quiet but obviously now contemplating whether I was getting too attached. I wanted to tell them to forget it, and I would've if I could be sure myself, but for the moment I was just as confused as they were. With a feeling of dread, I realized that this was something they were probably going to keep bringing up for a long time after this. Like I needed all that confusion and self-doubt while I was worrying about my almost-certain death by Esme.

"You know, now I think about it, you never actually said anything about the _first_ part of the rumors we brought up," Dez said, trying to fake nonchalance but unable to fight the teasing grin that stretched across her face.

"What was that again?"

"That you and him are actually, you know, together."

"Well, that's one rumor you can forget, because it's not true," I answered sharply, pushing open the glass doors that were the entrance to the art block and holding open for them. "We're friends. What I did for him I would've done for any of you guys."

They filed in silently down to the end of the hall and stood outside the door as I fiddled with the lock, and somehow I felt they weren't convinced. "I'm serious, guys. There's nothing between us."

"We believe you." Dez said quietly. The others nodded.

"Good. Then I don't want to hear anymore about it." I pushed open the door and peeked in. "Quasi?"

He was sitting where I had left him, slumped over the table, and at first I thought he was asleep. But then he stirred and turned to look at me, a slight smile on his lips, and whatever I had been thinking at that moment evaporated from my mind, because he was smiling and suddenly that was all I could see, upturned lips and sparkling gems for eyes and floppy, wavy, red hair, and everything else melted into nothingness and ugly became beautiful. And then I blinked, startled, as it all came back and one of the girls cleared their throats impatiently and everything was normal again. Except it wasn't- I was very aware that that was just a lie I told myself to avoid thinking about it.

The pause was long enough for him to sense that something was different, and the smile vanished and was replaced by concern. "M-Michigan?"

I shook my head slightly to get rid of the fuzz and tried to focus, which was now very hard given that my friends were outside and I wasn't sure if what they had been saying was true after all. Suddenly this didn't seem like such a great idea after all. "Hi. I, um, I'm sorry, I have my friends with me. Is it ok if they come it too?"

The look of fear that crossed his face was so sad that it almost broke my heart. "Oh, n-no, I-I-I-"

"They're nice, really nice, and they've promised not to freak you out. Please, they won't bite."

He shrugged helplessly, still fearful but willing to trust me, and I pushed the door open wider and let the girls walk in, then locked it behind us.

"So." I walked up and stood in front of them. "Girls, this is Quasimodo. Kaz, these are my friends, Emma, Desiree and Rebekah, otherwise known as Em, Dez and Bex." I pointed to each of them in turn and sat down, opening my lunchbag. "Girls, make yourselves at home. Kaz, I brought some food. I couldn't get your lunch cuz I don't know your locker combo, but you can share mine if you want. I have an orange and a sandwich."

"Ok..."

I took them out. "Dez, can you please get me a knife? Blue cabinet, second drawer."

She did, then stepped back next to Em, both of them standing awkwardly to the side, unsure of what to do. I doubted they realized that they were contributing to the general unease, but they were. Bex, however, threw away any reservations she might've had and pulled up a chair beside me.

"So, Quasimodo." She smiled brightly. "I'm Bex, obviously, and the first thing I want to say is that I'm sorry for the way you've been treated so far at this school. It's not fair for anyone to go through that. Secondly, I just want you to know that I don't believe you did what everyone says you did."

"Really?" Quasi's tone was a mixture or hope and sadness, which puzzled me a bit. Why would he be sad that someone believed him? "You d-don't"

"Sure I don't." She winked at him conspiratorially. "Us Rangas have to stick together, right?"

He looked down, probably embarrassed by her forwardness, and I slowly began to cut my orange, the art-knife going through the thick skin like butter. "Esme's just evil for spreading those lies about you."

"A witch," agreed Bex.

"A mean, irritatingly-perfect scumbag of the highest quality," added Em.

Des raised an eyebrow. "You mean there's different qualities of scumbag?"

"Of course. Esme is a high, cuz she's sophisticated, and so are those bimbo cheerleaders and half the drama club."

I passed Quasi half the orange slices, smiling at the decidedly funny turn of the conversation. "And Harley whats-his-name, you know that jerky guy who breaks all the rules, is a low, am I right?"

"Him, and those guys who go around tagging everything with sharpies, and the guys who shove kids into lockers, and people who kick puppies-"

"And guys who cheat on their girlfriends, and players, and vandals-"

"And Phoebus and his friends."

"Well, congratulations, you named just about every guy in the school." Em sat down at our table, finally comfortable in Quasi's presence. "And I'd have to agree with you there."

"But Esme's just... I dunno, she's just... she such a-"

"Biatch?" I offered.

Dez glared at me. "I was going to say bully."

I shook my head, sucking on my orange slice. "Nah, mine's better."

Quasi, who had been listening attentively to our ramblings, looked at all of us is surprise. "So, y-you all hate her?"

"Oh, no." I smiled evilly. "I'm not saying I hate her. I'm just saying that if she got hit by a train, I would be driving that train."

"No, we don't hate her." Em leaned back, shrugging. "We're just not necessarily excited about her existence."

"Our attitudes have some major issues with her personality."

Dez came over and sat with us. "I think she just needs a hug."

We looked at her.

"Around the neck," she added. "With a rope."

Bex giggled. Then me. Then Em. And then we were laughing, all the tenseness that was in the room evaporating in that moment.

"Or a high-five," I said, gasping for breath. "In the face. With a chair."

That started us off again and it was a few moments before we managed to regain our composure. As the laughter died down, I reached for my sandwich and cut it half, then passed half to Quasi, who had been watching us with amusement. "The fact is, _everyone_ hates her, but no-one's ever been brave enough to stand up to her. Same with her sister, though I never knew much about her." I turned to the girls, who were now eating their lunches around the paint-splattered table next to us. "Both of them went to Bundamba, you know. Then after primary school, for some bizarre reason a great big group of us moved here- Me, the Azarolas, Phoebus and a few others. The girls were quick to establish their places in the school hierarchy, and Phoebus wanted a new start, so he took up with Esme, and the rest is history."

"You have to wonder _why_ she's the way she is, though," said Dez, chucking her rubbish at the bin and missing. "There's gotta be a reason, surely."

"Eh, I don't care. I'm sure not going to ask her."

"She wouldn't tell you anyway."

"And she'd probably kill you if you found out, no joke."

"Huh. She's gonna kill me anyway. That reminds me, where _is_ she today?"

"At the tables near the tuckshop, I saw her there earlier. I think she's telling her story to anyone who'll listen."

"As long as she stays there, I'll be fine." I glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up. "The bell's going to ring soon, so you girls should probably get going. I'll be out soon."

Reluctantly, they all nodded and stood up, putting away their stuff and cleaning up the remains of their food. I went over and unlocked the door and waited while they said goodbye to Kaz, then they all trouped out and waved to me while I shut the door after them.

"So," I said as I began cleaning up the table, "What did you think of them?"

Quasi sat back, looking relieved. "Y-you were right, th-they are nice. I d-didn't expect them t-to be so kind."

I sat down in front of him. "There's one thing you should know about my friends, Quasi. I only choose the best. Sure, they make mistakes and they're crazy and stupid sometimes, but they are some of the best people in my life. I don't have as many friends as other people do, but I have them. And now I have you, too."

He didn't look at me for a few moments, but when he did, there were tears in his tears. Worried, I scooted closer and touched his arm. "Oh no, Kaz, what's wrong? What did I say?"

He shook his head, blinking furiously. "N-no, n-nothing's wrong. I-I've j-just n-never met anyone as k-kind as you. I've n-never had a real f-friend before." He sniffed and cleared his throat. "Th-the closest th-thing I've had to a f-friend was m-my m-mother, and when sh-she d-died..." He shook his head again.

I squeezed his arm, tears pricking my own vision. "It's ok, I understand. I really do."

He squinted at me, confused. "H-how c-could you p-possibly understand?"

"Let's just say..." I sighed and looked at the ceiling. "That I have a lot of experience. I know what it's like to be bullied and have no friends. I can't say I know exactly how you feel, but I have a pretty good idea."

He nodded in understanding, and I slowly took my hand away and sat back, just watching him. He looked up and met my gaze, and I smiled a little. _I don't know what everyone's on about, _I thought idly. _He's not really that bad-looking once you get used to it..._

And then the bell rang.

I jumped up and pushed my chair in, suddenly mortified without knowing why. "And now, I have to go. You can stay in here for the rest of the day. I don't know if I can come and see you after school, so you might have to make your way out by yourself. But your pick-up place isn't too far from here- just stick to the fence and you'll find it."

"Michigan?"

"Call me Mich." I shrugged, swinging the key on it's chain on my way to the door. "We are friends, after all."

"F-friends t-tell each other the truth, right?"

"That's right."

He looked down, fidgeting nervously. "I have t-to t-tell you something."

I turned to face him, worried. "What is it?"

"I... Ah... I-I..." He seemed to be having trouble getting the words out. "Y-you see... I..."

I crossed over, knelt in front of him and took his hands in mine. "What is it? Don't be afraid, I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. We're friends, right?"

He nodded, staring at our hands clasped together. Was it just my imagination, or did he start breathing quicker? And I could've sworn that his skin got a little darker, almost like he was blushing. But it could've been the light. I remembered the way he looked at me in the hall when I grabbed his hand and helped him up. What was it about me touching him that got him so worked up? Had he really never been touched before?

"So tell me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, and if I hadn't been holding them, his hands would've been shaking. "Y-you kn-know what everyone's b-been s-saying about me?"

"Yes?" Suddenly I had a bad feeling about what he was going to say next.

"I... I-I... I did."

I tried to stifle my gasp and restrained myself from pulling away, but inside I was in shock. "Y-you did?"

"Yes."

I looked at the ground, shaking my head. I didn't know what to think, and certainly not what to feel. Angry? Afraid? Sad? "Why?"

"I-I had to."

I looked up at him, surprised and confused and little bit upset. "What do you mean, you had to? It's not like you didn't have a choice-"

"I didn't."

"Wha-" He opened his eyes, and they were full of pain and sadness. And then I knew he was telling the truth. "You mean someone made you do it?"

He looked down and sighed, a heavy, heartbreaking sigh. "Yes."

"Who?"

He was silent.

"Quasi? Who made you do it?"

"I can't... I can't tell you. I'm n-not allowed to t-tell you."

I rested my head on our clasped hands, confused and unsure. I had no idea what I was supposed to do in a situation like this. I couldn't make him tell me, and I couldn't tell on him. It just wasn't an option. Perhaps my best action would be to stay silent. I looked up and glanced at the clock on the wall- I only just had time to get to class. "I'm guessing it took a lot of courage to tell me all you did. Don't worry, I'll keep my word. I won't tell anyone." I retracted my hands and straightened up. "And now, I _really_ have to go."

* * *

"That is one serious right hook you have there!"

I looked up, about to close my locker. It was late afternoon, just before the last class of the day, and I was feeling tired, grumpy and hungry as a result of my sparse lunch. And now here was Phoebus, leaning against the locker next to me and smiling cheekily, and I couldn't resist the idea of a verbal battle with one of the people I hated most.

"Awww, did I hurt your pretty face?" I countered, hand on hip. I was surprised that he was talking to me like this, a seemingly normal conversation that he had initiated, but I was mostly suspicious. He never talked to me. He just didn't. _This is going to be fun..._

"A little bit, yeah." He touched his nose protectively. "That's gonna leave a mark."

"I hope so."

"You surprised me, actually. I would never have thought that shy little Michi could pack such a punch!"

I made a show of flexing my hand and gave him a look. "What did I say about the name?"

"Ok, ok, I was just kidding. Down, boy." He looked around, and I noticed that there seemed to be an awful lot of people listening in to our conversation, though they tried to look innocuous. "But man, you can sure pick people to sympathize with. Didn't see that coming either."

"Oh?"

"But then, you always did have a thing for the weird ones."

At this comment, I smiled. Now was my chance. "And you would know that more than anyone, right James?"

He frowned, pretending confusion, but I was please to note that he shifted uneasily in my gaze. "What are you talking about?"

I did an Esme now, looking around to make sure everyone was listening. "I seem to recall a certain dorky blond kid with glasses who couldn't achieve any kind of popularity until he got a girlfriend and was suddenly deemed 'datable', and who allowed himself to be stolen away from his girlfriend without any explanation whatsoever to her. That poor girl, what she must've gone through! What do you think of someone who acts that way?" This question was directed to the people listening, who shook there heads and murmured in disapproval. "My sentiments exactly. Now, who could that have been, I wonder?" I pretended to think while Phoebus stood there uncomfortably and the people around us started grinning and nudging each other. Then I clicked my fingers and looked up, fake realization on my face. "Oh, that's right! That was you!"

A titter went around the hallway and I smirked, enjoying my new-found ability to bring him down a peg or two. This was turning out more fun than I had anticipated. _I should've done this years ago!_ Still, I didn't let my satisfaction cloud my suspicions. I was still constantly looking out for something that would show this all up as fake. And I wasn't disappointed. The crowd's attention (for it was a decent-sized crowd now, unashamedly gawking at our confrontation) suddenly seemed to shift to somewhere behind me just as Phoebus leaned closer to talk to me.

"I remember all of that. You may not think so, but I do. And the thing is, I was young and didn't know what I was doing. I didn't mean for you to get hurt." He sounded sincere, but I didn't believe a word of it. Unlike most girls, I didn't wait around for guys to see the error of their ways and come begging for forgiveness. I didn't want Phoebus back. I was more interested in revenge. So my mind was clear and my expression was a clear representation of the classic 'bitch please' face as I listened to his pointless apology. "And I know that after all this time, you're still mad about what happened, and I can understand that. I know you don't believe me, but sometime I think back on those times when we were kids and... I kind of miss them. I kind of miss... you."

The moment he glanced behind me and smirked, I knew I had to act. Still pretending to listen closely, I let my hand creep up to my almost-closed locker door and swing it open a little wider, then I stepped forward (and, to my chagrin, closer to Phoebus) so it was behind me and propped my elbow against the edge, tense and waiting. _Any moment now..._

"And now I know exactly what I was missing," Phoebus went on, oblivious to all my preparations for the coming attack. If anything, he probably thought he was getting to me. "Forget Esme, you have fire, and I like it. In fact I love it." He took a deep breath and stared deep into my eyes, and I had to restrain myself from headbutting him. "Actually, what I've been wanting to say... what I've been wanting to say for a while now..."

Now I could hear the footsteps, slow and creeping, approaching me from behind, and I could almost feel the presence of the person behind me. If I had been truly listening to Phoebus, I wouldn't have picked any of this up, but thankfully I was aware and slightly paranoid. I fancied I could even hear their breathing, whoever they were.

_Wait for it..._

"I meant what I said back then, and I just want you to know that although it's been a while, I still-"

The crowd seemed to hold their breath, and in that split second I slammed my fist back against the door and felt the metal connect with the face of the person behind me. The girl gave a shriek and dropped like a stone, inadvertently also dropping her iPod and the cream pie she had been about to shove in my face.

Everyone gasped and pressed closer, trying to see, and Phoebus took a step back, shocked at this sudden development. I looked down at the girl- some crony of Esme's- who was groaning and holding her face and about to roll into the cream pie mess, then crossed my arms and smiled up at Phoebus. "You were saying?"

He stared at the girl on the ground, eyes wide and face pale. "Uh... no... ah... forget it, it's nothing."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself. Wow, two noses in one day. I am on a roll!" Suddenly I felt a bit sorry for the poor girl. It wasn't her fault that Esme was a manipulating bully. I held out my hand for her to take, and she took it, glaring at me, and let me help her up. She went and stood next to Phoebus, both of them unsure of what to next next. I doubt Esme had been planning on this.

"All right, you lot," I addressed the crowd, giving them all a stern look. "There's nothing more to see here. Move on, please. Get outta here."

They moved on, whispering and shooting glances back at us, and I allowed myself to relax for a moment, breathing a sigh of relief and rubbing the bridge of my nose. It had been a long and eventful day, and it wasn't over yet.

"Ok, you two, you can go." I turned around and started walking, eager to get to class and sit down. "Actually..." I looked back at them. "Nice try on your parts, but please tell Esme to fight her own fights from now on. This is getting exhausting."

They exchanged glances, a little fearful, and I left them there.

* * *

**_Even though it wasn't exactly the same, I have to say the smack-cam idea came from Leslie The Sorceress's story 'On My Own'. I thought I should give her credit for it since I wouldn't have thought of it otherwise._**

**_Please review :)_**


	13. Team

**_So I've been busy reading Frozen fanfiction and looking for hair dye and getting lost on Pinterest instead of updating, but I decided to just finish the chapter and get on with it. This is kind of a filler chapter and the first half is a bit boring but it had to be done *shrugs*. I wanted to make it longer but there you go. _**

**_Last chapter, Quasi reveals that he did try to abduct Esme but he didn't have a choice, the girls befriend him, and Mich bashes two noses in one day. This chapter, steps are taken to reduce the bullying and Mich and Esme have a little one-on-one 'chat'._**

**_Read on and please review._**

* * *

I'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air, so there  
So all the cups got broke shards beneath our feet but it wasn't my fault  
And everyone's competing for a love they won't receive  
'Cause what this palace wants is release

We live in cities you'll never see on screen  
Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things  
Living in ruins of a palace within my dreams  
And you know, we're on each other's team.

'Team'- Lorde.

* * *

That night, I sat down and told my parents everything.

Not _everything_, of course. My parents were strong and dependable, a little crazy, I might admit, but good people. I knew they would do anything to help me. We had a good relationship, the three of us, although dad and I got into fights a lot and mum became extremely emotional sometimes, but these thing were only natural. They loved me, and I knew that. But even I kept things from them sometimes. So I didn't tell them about the strange feelings I'd been getting lately, or the noses I may or may not have broken that day. I didn't tell them about the argument between me and Em that was now resolved. But I told them about Quasimodo and the bullying and our budding friendship. I told them about my desire to help and my fears that it would only get worse for both of us. And then I asked them what I should do.

"Tell someone," my mum said as soon as I'd finished.

"But I've already told you."

"I mean tell a teacher."

I rolled my eyes. "That might've worked in primary school, but not now. No-one likes a tell-tale, and it would become so much worse for me if I got someone in trouble."

"I could ring the school for you,' dad suggested.

"Just as bad." I shook my head, frustrated. "I just wish something could be done about bullying without specific people getting in trouble."

"Ignore it."

"Yes, turn the other cheek. If they find that they're not getting a reaction, they'll get bored and go bully someone else."

"Da-ad, you know that won't work here. This is high-school bullying we're talking about. These people live to make lives miserable and they never let up. And now it's gotten physical, too."

"Where are the teachers in all this?"

"Distracted, probably. Someone must keep them occupied when it's happening, cuz they're always 'conveniently' out of the way."

"So we're back to where we were." Mum thought for a moment. "Would you like us to take you our of school like we did in year 7?"

"NO!" I saw their surprise at my loudness and lowered my voice. "No. I don't want to leave Quasi. I'm the only friend he has. If I leave, he'll have no-one."

"Mich, I don't want you to go through unnecessary pain. You don't owe anyone anything," mum said gently. "You don't have to stay."

"I _want_ to stay, mum."

That silenced them, and I leaned back to watch them contemplate everything I just told them. As I did, I noticed how much older they were looking and wondered if that was my fault.

Dad was relatively tall -although compared to some of his Islander friends her was tiny- and very young-looking for his age of 43. Which created some awkwardness sometimes when people assumed that me and him were married. It happened so often now that we just found it better to laugh about it and move on instead of freaking out. His hair was dark, his eyes were brown-ish, and he wore glasses on his plump, square face. We were nothing alike in regards to looks, but our personalities practically matched. We clashed more than often as a result, but our arguments never lasted too long, partly because I was bad at holding grudges and partly because both of us hated conflict.

Mum, on the other hand. I got told all the time that I looked like my mother. With our similar face shape, noses and hair colour, I could see the resemblance. But her eyes were hazel while mine were almost betazoid-brown (ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea), her hair was thinner, she was about 40 kilos heavier and looked very much older.

Both of them had dealt with bullies in the past, but that was 25 years ago. Things were different now.

"We want what's best fro you," dad said eventually, " and the best advice we can give you is to ignore it, avoid it and try not to pick fights. But if you really want to do something about it that badly, you could talk to the guidance councilor. He would keep it confidential so you wouldn't get into further trouble. Or maybe we could talk to him for you."

"Or, even better..." I paused, my mind ticking over as an idea started to form. "Perhaps I could tell a teacher after all if I didn't mention names. Or... or you could call the principle... and then others' parents call too... maybe if they got enough calls, they'd actually do something!" I sat up straight. "Could you call tonight, please?"

Dad checked his watch. "Will there be anyone there?"

"The school doesn't close till 6, dad. It's only just gone 5:20." I jumped up and grabbed mum's mobile from the charger. "Call them now, quickly, so I can call the others."

Mum took it. "What do I say?"

I told her what to say and waited while she rang the school, excited at the prospect of things getting better.

"Hello? Yes, um, two of my children go to Park Ridge, and I'm calling because one of them is getting bullied every day and we want something done about it. No, they didn't want to be identified. I believe I will leave that to your discretion. Yes, it's just recently gotten physical. If the teachers were around to help do you think I'd be calling? No, I understand completely, but I don't think your policies are good enough. No, they won't, because I don't want my child to be afraid to go to school and have to hide in a classroom at lunchtime. Names?" She looked at me, barely missing a beat. "No, I'm afraid they didn't disclose any names. No, I get how difficult this is going to be, but if I may say so, your whole way of doing things leaves much to be desired. All I want to for you to do something to make it difficult for the bullies. Hard, I agree, but not impossible. Exactly, yes. Well, thanks for that. Yes, good bye." She passed me the mobile and smiled at me. "Happy?"

"You were awesome, mum." We high-fived and I then I called up Dez. "Hi, Dezzie? Listen, I have a mission for your mum. Can you put her on?"

* * *

Later, just as it turned 6, after half-a-dozen phone-calls and an unknown number of messages on Gmail chat, the last message came in from Bex and I all but started dancing in my seat.

"Is it done?" Dad asked, looking up from his computer with some amusement.

"Is what done?" asked Angie, strolling in with a book and her iPad, having overheard us.

I smiled happily. "Angie m'love, we are going to make high-school a better place for everyone. Just you wait..."

* * *

We didn't have to wait long.

Things didn't usually move very fast at Park Ridge, and sometimes it seemed it seemed like the place was run by idiots, the teacher being more interested in the color of your jumper than the kids smoking in the toilets or getting high at the bottom of the soccer field. Bullying had always, always been a problem, so much so that we were pretty well-known for it, and none of the numskulls who ran the school had ever tried to address it. So when the notice appeared on the board outside the office the next morning, announcing a new campaign and an emergency assembly that was to be held just before lunch, I was more than shocked. I was flabbergasted and unbelievably excited. Something was finally happening, and I had started it.

The girls met me at my locker, standing around and looking expectant. I answered their unasked questions with a round of high-fives and a breathless laugh. "You guys are the best, you know that?"

"Yea, yeah, we know we're awesome." Em leaned against the next locker as I opened mine and threw my stuff in. "I'm presuming it worked, then?"

"Haven't you seen the notice outside the office?" They all shook their heads. "Well, there's going to be an assembly before lunch to announce an anti-bullying campaign! High school is going to get better for everyone! So, yeah, i reckon it worked a right treat. Thanks, guys."

"Happy to help." Em pushed off and covertly slipped her phone out of her pocket to check the time. "You ready to go? We have English is a few minutes."

"Yeah, hang on." I ducked my head in my locker and rifled around for my english book. "I just... have... to find..."

"Um, Mich?"

"This!" I held up the book triumphantly, then stopped short. "What's wrong?"

Bex sounded a little panicked, tapping her feet nervously and biting her lip as she looked behind me. "Someone might need saving again, I think."

I turned and followed her gaze to the hallway intersection and rolled my eyes. "Oh, give me a break!"

It was Quasimodo, of course, shuffling down the hallway followed closely by Andrew and Brett, who were pelting spitballs and broken pencils at his back and calling out obscenities. As if they hadn't seen enough yesterday to know to stay away.

With an angry noise that sounded a bit like a wounded camel, I grabbed my textbook, slammed my locker door and stomped over to the scene, fuming.

Predictably, they stopped when they saw me. I suppose not everything from yesterday had been forgotten.

"Don't you losers have anything better to do?" I growled, glaring at them. "Spitballs and pencils- really? How juvenile can you get? Can't you leave the poor guy alone?"

"Oh, right, and are you gonna make us?"

"Yeah, you gonna take us on?"

"I might."

"Ohhhhh!" they mocked, but I noticed they didn't move any closer and that there was more uncertainty than bravado behind their voices.

"Yeah, go ahead, laugh." I stepped closer and smirked when I saw both of them take an almost imperceptible step back. "I don't think Phoebus was laughing yesterday when I decked him, or that girl who tried to smack-cam me and ended up with a door in her face for her troubles. You poor idiots have no idea what you're dealing with. So let me give you a little bit of advice." I raised my fist and my textbook. "Angry girl, heavy book, one hell of a right hook. And I just started a campaign that can get you both into trouble." I took another step and and smiled sweetly, an edge in my voice. "Basically... run."

They exchanged a fearful look; then, deciding I was serious, did exactly what I said. I turned to Quasi, nodding in satisfaction as the idiots stumbled around the corner and disappeared. I was getting used to this 'standing up for my friend' stuff.

"And that's the way to do it." I stuck my hands in my pockets and looked at me friend. "Good morning, by the way. You alright?"

"Y-you didn't have to d-do that," he said, looking at the ground and shifting his schoolbag uncomfortably. "I can ignore it."

"Yeah, well, I can't. And pretty soon we won't have to, anyway."

He looked at me quizzically. "You said something about a c-campaign?"

I tucked my book under my arm and barely managed to restrain myself from jumping up and down on the spot. "Yep, anti-bullying. I though the school needed a bit of brushing up, so I got one started. You won't have to worry about people picking on you anymore and you'll be able to walk around and not be scared-"

"How? When?"

"Last night." I grinned, feeling ready to burst with excitement. "Ok, so me and my parents were talking and they suggested I tell a teacher, but I took it one step further and got them to call the principle, and then I got the girls' parents to call as well, and I sent a few emails from different accounts, and I guess they got fed up with all the people calling and writing and complaining that they finally decided to do something, and now there's a campaign and an assembly later and I know it seems too good to be true but I really think everything's going to get better-" Here I stopped for breath and started coughing, choking in an effort so start breathing again. I guess it was a good idea to pause in-between sentences, huh?

Note to self- BREATHE MORE OFTEN.

Quasi stood there helplessly, not knowing what to do while I doubled over and tried not to die on the hallway floor. The people around us stopped and stared at me for a few moments, then continued on their separate ways, not one of them courteous enough to stop and try to help. Not that I wanted any help, but if I saw someone hacking their lungs up in the middle of the hallway I sure as hell wouldn't just leave them there.

"Are you ok?"

"I-(cough)- I'm fine-(wheeze)- I'm just- (splutter)-"

Then the girls arrived.

"Mich, are you alright?"

"What's wrong?"

"Why are you dying in the middle of the hallway?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I waved them away and straightened up, my coughs dying down and lungs finally starting to take in air properly again. Shaking the hair out of my eyes, I looked around and took a deep breath. "Just got a little excited."

"So I see. Are you done?"

I took another deep breath and let it out slowly, and when I was sure that I wasn't going to start dying again any time soon, I looked at Quasi and inclined my head towards the girls. "Are you going to be alright by yourself now? Cuz we have to go to class, but if you need me to stay with you-"

"Go with your f-friends. I'll... I'll be fine."

I nodded and we moved away, the girls nodding their acknowledgement to Quasi, and we headed to our classes as the bell rang and the hallway became a mass of panic.

* * *

Later that day, after an extremely motivating assembly that promised a good start to the anti-bullying crackdown, I was loitering in the bathroom in front of the mirror when I heard the footsteps. Even concentrating on three things at once- attempting to fix the clumps in my mascara with my fingernail, rehashing the assembly in my mind and trying not to suffocate in the suspicious-smelling smoke that wafted from a few of the cubicles (the kind that misted up the room and made your eyes water if you weren't used to it)- I recognized the sound of those footsteps; the way the owner stalked through the entrance like she owned the place, swinging her hips like a model in shoes that were always at least an inch higher than regulation allowed. Yes, I recognized it. And the voice that went with it.

"So, you think I can't fight my own fights." It was more an amused statement than a question, but under the amusement was a hint of ice. She was not happy.

I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of having caught me off-guard. "Well, it kinda looks that way, doesn't it?"

She paced slowly behind me, hands clasped and back straight, heels clicking on the tile floor. She looked like a cobra about to strike. "Well, you're wrong. I am perfectly able to defend myself from people who get in my way."

I rolled my eyes. "Get in your way? God, you sound like a villain from a superhero movie. Get in the way of what, your popularity?"

"I've worked hard to be where I am today-"

"Where are you?"

She smirked. "Popular. I am popular. Something you will never be."

"If being popular means that I'm like you, then I'm glad. But you're not popular."

"Yes I am."

"No, you're feared." I turned to face her and crossed my arms, staring her down. "Popularity means that you're liked. You push people around and mess with their heads and bully them like it's a game, just for a laugh. Just to make sure they know who's in charge. You dominate people and make them so afraid of you. You make them hate you so much. And when someone like me protests against it, you send your minions to try and stamp them out. Well, it didn't work. I'm not going to sit back and ignore it anymore. Someone need to stand up to you and it might as well be m-"

Three quick steps and she was holding me backwards over the sink with a surprisingly strong grip for someone so small, halting my bravado in a move I was only partly prepared for. Her eyes were flashing with anger, and it occurred to me that this was the first time anyone had stood up to her like this. She wouldn't like not having complete control over the situation, and as she held me I realized that not all my fear of her had dissipated yet. _A queen bee can have a nasty sting when provoked..._

"I'm only going to say this once," she hissed, holding my gaze and daring me to look away. "I want you to stay away from me and my friends from now on, alright? I have a reputation to keep up, and I don't need you or anyone else getting in my way-"

"To stop you walking all over everyone?" I shook my head, just about fed up with this girl. I couldn't help it; my mouth was running away with me. "You know what? I never did anything to you. You're just creating your own little drama of insecurity like the attention-seeker you are. All I did was help out a friend who was being bullied, and though I know a concept like that is hard for you to understand, believe me when I say that I will _never_ let anything like that happen again. So stay away from _my_ friends, alright?"

"Or what?" She cocked her head and pushed me back further so that my back was touching the mirror, getting up in my face. "What are you going to do if I don't?"

"Nothing." I smiled sweetly at her infuriated face. "I'm not going to do anything. Because now that this anti-bullying thing has started, people with be watching, and if you don't stop doing what you do, those in authority will find out and measures with be taken." Now I shoved her away, watching her totter on her heels, trying to catch her balance. I almost laughed, but I didn't want to push it. "So stay away from me and my friends, including Quasimodo. I don't care what you think he did, or almost did, but I WILL protect the people around me. Have you got that?"

The hate in her eyes was strong. She wasn't afraid, but I'm sure she knew the balanced of power had tipped and that she had no choice but to agree. As for me, the last bit of fear and respect that I had had for her was gone. I had stood up to Esme Azarola and won. Sure, she was angry and would now be looking for revenge, but it wasn't important anymore. She was just a girl who liked to pretend she was important. And now I was looking at her up close I began to notice things about her that I hadn't noticed before. Like her nose- it was small and pretty, enviable to just about everyone, but now I saw that behind the perfect contouring of her makeup, it was actually flat and wide, not pert and perfect like I had thought. And her eyes- though the makeup made them look large and beautiful, they had a distinct almond-shape, almost Asian-like. Her skin was sun-kissed and perfectly tanned, but I had never gotten close enough to notice that behind the perfume was a strong fake-tan smell that surrounded her like an aura, and unlike Ems, it definitely didn't look natural. How much more of her was fake? What was she, really? And why had I never noticed before?

Esme blinked and stepped back, ice queen once again, and crossed her arms. I matched the gesture. "Am I clear?"

She pursed her lips, not at all happy but seeing no choice other than to agree. "Crystal." With that, she turned and all but ran out of the bathroom, looking for all the world like a bratty little child who didn't get her own way and was storming off in a rage. Once she was gone, I slumped against the sink and let out a sigh of relief, surprised at my own daring.

Sudden clapping broke out from behind the last few cubicle doors, and I grinned weakly as one of the smokers called out, "You go, girl."

"Thank you, thank you very much." I straightened up and bowed towards the cubicles, then left to the sound of laughing and more clapping. Everything was good.

_Punching Phoebus... smashing a random girl's face... basically becoming Quasi's bodyguard... a real, live confrontation with Esme... improving school-life as we know it..._ All this from me, the shy, unremarkable wallflower.

I had sure changed a lot in the last couple of months.

And despite the results to my status in the school, I liked it.

* * *

**_Wasn't sure how to end this. Hope it wasn't too bad. The further in I get, the shakier it is. But I suppose since it's just filler it can be forgiven, right?_**

**_Don't forget to be awesome! (And review :))_**


	14. Everybody Hurts

**_Last chapter, Mich stood up to Esme and changed the school. This chapter, there's sneaking around, music, and something shocking that will be continued in the next chapter. Read on and please review :)_**

* * *

When your day is long  
And the night, the night is yours alone  
When you're sure you've had enough  
Of this life, well hang on

Don't let yourself go  
'Cause everybody cries  
And everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong  
Now it's time to sing along  
When your day is night alone  
If you feel like letting go  
If you think you've had too much  
Of this life, well hang on

Everybody hurts  
Take comfort in your friends  
Everybody hurts  
Don't throw your hand, oh no.

'Everybody Hurts'- R.E.M.

* * *

Facing down Esme made me feel empowered, freer than I had been in a long time. The biggest bully in Park Ridge was no longer so fearsome or so big anymore. Something had started, a new way of doing things, a new age if you will. A safer, happier age of high school. Too bad not everyone was around the first few days to enjoy it.

Yep, Quasi was way for the rest of the week. Again.

School just wasn't the same without him. I mean I was happy enough, seeing the watchful teachers in the hallways and joyful students who didn't have to worry about being beaten up and anti-bullying posters plastered all over the walls. And I could hang out with my friends with a clear conscience, knowing that I wasn't putting them in danger. And people noticed me, nodded at me in passing and looked at me and, to my annoyance, they still whispered about me. Like what I had done was any secret. There were also whispers of the Gang splitting up, Esme and Phoebus in particular, which were all steadfastly denied. The said couple were rarely seen together anymore, and whenever Esme saw me she would give me a murderous glare, like it was my fault. Which it probably was. I had no doubt that she was going to try to get me back sometime, which would be a little difficult now under the circumstances. I swear, if looks could kill... Not that I cared. School wasn't scary anymore, and I should've been thankful for that.

But I still missed his quiet company Even if we still hardly spoke when we hung out, it was nice to just sit and think with someone, to feel like you could protect them from anything. I had laughed at the 'knight in shining armor' thing, but that's kinda what I felt like. A clumsy, distracted, nerdy, knight in shining armor. And though it wouldn't have hurt anyone for Quasi to stand up for himself from time to time, I liked being all tough and protective. It made me feel needed, like I had a job to do.

I was starting to wonder about his strange absences from school. He seemed to be sick an awful lot, although there was never any sign of it when he was at school. It was always two or three days, he never looked any different afterwards (although he seemed even more withdrawn when he came back, if that was possible) and when I came around with his homework, I was never allowed to see him. I was a little suspicious, but what of, I wasn't sure yet. It was strange, anyway. But then, Quasimodo himself was still much of a mystery to me. So that Friday, I decided to try something a little different. Activate stealth mode...

* * *

We pulled up in Notre-Dame Court as usual, mum leaving the engine running and pulling out a book to drown out the sounds of arguing coming from the back seat (we had picked everyone up at the same time and they weren't taking kindly to being thrown together in a confined space), and I jumped the fence and tiptoed to the front door. But this time, instead of knocking, I _mimed_ it, then pretended to have a conversation with someone on the other side. It was all silent, of course, and just for show. To anyone watching (read: mum) it had to look like I was being directed around the back.

I stepped away from the door and started walking around the side of the house, choosing my steps carefully. The general dishevelment of the front yard continued around the side, with over grown grass and miscellaneous items littering the ground and who-knew-what creatures dwelt under the mess. I identified old shoes, more glass bottles, rubbish and random, rusty metal parts mixed in with everything else, and I hoped with some trepidation that I wouldn't step on anything sharp. I didn't think my beat-up, imitation-converse shoes could hold up very well if I stood on a nail.

The wall I followed had windows, but most of them were covered by curtains or boarded up. Cobwebs were strung from them to the overgrown shrubs on the fence, and I had to grab a stick and hold it in front of my head so that they wouldn't catch in my hair. The whole place was a wreck, and I hoped with all my heart that it looked better inside that it did outside. _What a place to live in..._

I was trying to navigate around a mound of broken bricks and glass and avoid a huge web with a protective golden orb spider in the middle when I heard the music.

It was coming from the corner window, the one that wasn't covered by anything and was slightly open. Just a slow strumming, obviously a guitar. Who could resist investigating? I mean, really? Open window, music, and me already exploring and looking for answers... I glanced behind me and figured if I went all the way to the window I would still be in sight of the car. You may think it's a strange thing to worry about, but I knew mum would freak if she couldn't see me. It's not like she knew the people here. Anything could happen to me. So I had to be careful.

Down went the spider, it's home ruined and wrapped around my stick, and when I was sure it wasn't going to come after me I picked my way through the mess to the open window and peered in.

The tiny room was immaculate. There was nothing on the walls or floor, the books stacked neatly on the little desk in the corner of the room, the bed positioned under the window, bedspread grey and boring-looking to match the equally grey and boring-looking carpet. Quasimodo sat on the bed with his back to me, plucking at the strings of his guitar. I didn't recognize the song, but it was melodic and pretty and soothing and I found myself leaning against the house, staring into space, listening to the song instead of doing what I came here to do. The book in my arms suddenly reminded me that I couldn't stay for long.

He stopped playing then and sighed, leaning on the guitar like he had the weight of the world on his twisted shoulders (for all I knew, maybe he did) and I figured that maybe now was the time to make my presence known.

I swear he jumped ten feet in the air when I cleared my throat.

"What the...?" He grabbed the guitar before it slid off the bed and put it down where it couldn't fall and stared at me, his eyes bugging out of his head. I waved, smiling sheepishly, a little amused at his reaction.

"Hey, Kaz."

He looked around rapidly as if he expected someone to walk in on us at any moment, his expression almost terrified. "W-w-what are you d-doing here? H-how...?"

I held up the books, confused and not at all amused anymore. Why on earth would he be scared of me being there? "Homework."

"B-but..."

"But why would I come to your bedroom window instead of going to the front door like usual?"

He nodded.

I shrugged. "I wanted to see if you were ok. You dad won't let me see you, and I heard your playing- which is very good, by the way- and I'm a naturally curious person, so here I am."

"B-b-but you can't b-be here, my f-father might find you and then you'd be in t-trouble-"

"But I am here. Don't worry, no-one will find out and I can't stay long, anyway." I looked at my watch, then at the waiting car where mum was still peacefully reading, and figured I had a little time. "Right now I'm more interested in your music. Who taught you to play like that?"

He blinked, torn between wanting me to leave and talking about what was obviously his passion. "N-no-one taught me, I just learned."

"Can you teach me?" was my next question.

"Teach you?"

"Well, the online tutorials aren't doing it for me and I don't have the time or money for lessons, and you already know guitar, and we spend a good amount of time together, so..."

"I-I suppose I could..." He hesitated and glanced at the door. "You shouldn't be here, he might hear you..."

I nodded and passed the books through the window. "You're dad really doesn't like visitors, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Alright, I'm going." I stepped away, then came back again. "Promise you'll help me?"

He nodded quickly. "I promise. Now, go, please."

"Alright, I'm going. Bring your guitar on Monday, ok?" I left for real this time, not waiting to hear his answer. I somehow knew without a doubt that he would do exactly what I asked. He gave me the impression that would do anything for his friends- heck, he'd probably stand on his head if I asked him to. _Such a devoted friends could easily be taken advantage of... not that I would, but others wouldn't be so kind. For instance, that business with Esme. Whoever asked him to do that must've been close to him._ I shook my head as I jumped the fence- an easy task by now- and headed for the car. It wasn't my business to speculate about that- Quasimodo obviously didn't want anyone to know, so I would try to honor his wishes... what was that? I turned as a flash of yellow caught my eye. I hadn't noticed it before, either because I was so intent on snooping around or because the branches of the shrub next to the fence had been covering it, but my climbing had disturbed the shrub and now it was visible- a little yellow sign, about the size of an A5 piece of paper, with the shape of an eye in the center. A silent protest against Vietnamese and Cambodian farming. Not many suburban houses cared about that, since it was only the people of Greenbank and Munruben who thought they were affected by it. Those with the sign where often prejudiced against the farmers themselves and very dogmatic in their views, prone to disrespectful, racist comments and actions. And I hated prejudice, hated it with a passion, so those who supported it were not very high in my esteem.

But that was alright. I didn't like Officer Frollo very much to start with, so this didn't change my views of him in the slightest. It only made me pity Quasi even more that he had to live with a rude, racist person like that. My only worry was that he might share those views. If he did, I might have to reeducate him...

Mum rolled down her window then and asked me why I was just standing there in the middle of the street, so I got in the car, looking forward to Monday.

* * *

Quasimodo was as good as his word, and on Monday he came to school with his guitar. I brought mine as well and stored them both in the art-room, and when lunchtime rolled around we were ready for jamming.

Or learning, anyway.

"So, what exactly do you want me to teach you?" Quasi asked, carefully taking his guitar out of it's case. It was a beautiful instrument, reddish-brown and engraved with flowing patterns and symbols, and from the scuffs and marks etched into it I could see that it was old and had been well loved in it's time. And it was no less loved now than it was then, as I saw from the gentle, almost reverent way he held it. It made me a bit conscious of my own guitar, which was just a cheap knock-off from Aldi and wasn't even tuned properly despite being practically new. But right now I didn't really care what it looked like, as long as we could make music.

"Well, I know a few chords and a bit of rhythm, but it's more banging on the thing than strumming it. I just need someone tune it and then I want to learn some easy songs. Think you can help?"

"I can try." I handed over my guitar and he started to tune it, strumming on the strings and twiddling the knobs until it sounded just right. When he was done, he handed it back. "Here. It's tuned now. D-do you have a song you want to learn?"

"Not exactly, but I know there's a website with a list of easy songs. Let me just find it..." I opened my laptop and booted it up while Quasi started to strum absentmindedly on his guitar while he waited. As I searched, I started to sing under my breath, humming the bits I didn't know and swaying a little to the tune in my head, something I did a lot when doing something that didn't require a lot of thought. It was a few moments before I realised that Quasi had stopped playing and was staring at me. "What?"

"I know that song," he murmured.

"I heard it on the radio this morning. Can you play it?"

He nodded and found his place on the guitar, and plucked out the first few chords. With a nod from me, he continued on.

"Huh…" I smiled and started to sway again as he played out a very good cover of 'Everybody Hurts'. A little halting and hesitant, I admit, but it was clear that he knew the song well, even humming the melody as he played. I closed my eyes when he reached the chorus and sang along softly. "Everybody hurts, sometimes… everybody cries. And sometimes, everybody hurts… sometimes, everybody cries…"

The music stopped, and I opened my eyes to find him staring at me again. Shifting self-consciously, I looked down at my guitar and tapped my fingers on the wood, embarrassed. "What?"

"N-nothing, you just-" he shook his head and cleared his throat, looking away before I had a chance to see if his eyes really were misty or if it was just the light. "Nothing."

"Ok." We sat in silence for a few seconds before I spoke again. "So, are you going to teach me to play that song? You seem to know it pretty well."

"I can do that." He moved his chair a bit closer and showed me the first chord on his guitar. "You put your fingers here, like this, and pluck the strings like this…" He demonstrated and then watched as I tried to copy him. "Good, but you need to bend your fingers like this. And don't push too hard, you'll hurt your hand. Play it again. Good. Now the next chord it like this…"

We continued like this for a while, him showing me the notes, me trying to copy and eventually writing them all down with little diagrams to help me remember where to put my fingers. By the time the bell went, I could play the first two line of the song and my fingers were raw. Despite the pain, I was satisfied with his method of teaching and could tell he didn't mind the activity at all. I knew then that this would become a regular thing, and I was right.

* * *

Almost every day we played together, learning bits of the song, playing them over and over and slowly working my fingers to the bone. It was fun, making music and having something of substance to do. The girls joined us sometimes, just to sit and listen to our jam sessions, but they generally did their own things at lunch, and I hadn't heard any more ridiculous teasing… yet. It would come. I still caught a few exchanged glances now and then- they just couldn't help themselves. Come a sleepover with too much junk food and a good game of truth or dare, I knew they wouldn't be able to shut up about it. So I treasured the peace I had while I had it.

In regards to the bullying, there were obviously no confrontation, but I heard about tricks and pranks being played on a lot of people that weren't able to be tracked to their sources. Most were innocent enough and no-one was ever hurt, but then there were the hate notes. They began piling up at alarming frequency in the first few days, and not only Quasi and other misfits were getting them but now I was too. They were mostly full of bad poetry and disgusting language, and after a while I stopped reading them altogether. I wouldn't let Quasi read them either. He didn't need any more of that kind of thing to drag him down. So I grabbed them as soon as I saw them and scrunched them up in front of everyone, refusing to be subject to people who thrived on others' pain. I wanted to show that no matter what others tried to do to us, we would not be intimidated or brought down.

One Tuesday I heard whispers that Esme would be looking for us after school- trust her to find out that day I had to hang around and take advantage of it. So that day we agreed to split up and take two different routes to our usual spot, and whoever she followed would lead her a merry dance around the grounds, where hopefully she would encounter a teacher and get in trouble. It was a touch-and-go plan, one that would most likely fail. But we decided to try it anyway.

It just so happened that she ended up following me. I saw her that afternoon, keeping her distance but most definitely following me, and I lead her on a great chase through the school, always managing to stay ahead but in sight. For a while I stayed away from places where I knew the teachers were, wanted to draw it out for as long as possible, (this was something I had always enjoyed; I loved the thrill of being chased and the danger of being caught, and I had spent most of fifth grade taunting and being chased by one particular girl who had always hated me. Strange pastime, I know, but it was fun.) but eventually I came to the hallway that lead to our meeting spot. Now I slowed down, for there was a particular teacher in one of the classrooms around here who hated loud noises with a passion, and I need my plan to work. I was puffing now, my chest tight and painful with lack of exercise, but the 'thump thump' of Esme's shoes behind me spurred me on. I sped past the teacher's door, yelling at the top of my lungs, then put on a burst of speed and reached the side door just as the cranky teacher came out to see what was going on. A hand grabbed mine and whisked me through and I slammed the door and fell against it, breathless and laughing as Quasi and I listened to the musical sound of Esme getting in trouble for running around in the corridors like a little kid. For a while, we reveled in the fact that our plan had worked and we had made it. Then we high-fived and sat down to practice some more.

I still wondered about his bruises. In my spare moments I kept thinking back to the day I helped him, hidden in the staff toilets as I took off his jacket and stared at his arms, all sore and bruised and usually hidden away. I hadn't said a word about it, just went on with what I was doing because I didn't want to make things worse, but it had been gnawing away at me ever since. Where did they come from? When had they happened? Who had done it? They were just more questions to add to the list of things I didn't know about him, this mystery that was Quasimodo.

One lunch, we were eating and doing our thing, me working on my essay on Ancient Egypt-the same one I wrote every few years when the subject came around, and which I didn't even need to go to class for anymore- and him tuning my guitar again, when he got up to put his rubbish in the bin and tripped on my computer cord on the way back. He went down hard on the side of the desk, the cord wrapped around his feet and half ripped out of the wall, and I jumped up, eyes wide, as he met the floor with a great 'thump'.

"Holy crap, are you ok?" I scrambled over and untangled the cord, then dropped down beside him. He was lying on his side, obviously in a lot of pain but not making any noise, but when I came over he sat up quickly and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'm fine," he lied with gritted teeth, holding his side and trying to breathe normally. I frowned at the obvious fib, wondering what his problem was. It wasn't like I would think any less of him for admitting he was hurt.

"Liar. I know it feels to bang your hip on something. Feels like you've been shot. You don't have to be brave all the time, you know." I reached for the bottom of his jacket, intending to take a look to make sure it wasn't serious, but to my surprise, he grabbed my hand and shifted out of my reach, like he didn't want me to touch him. "I just wanna look, Quasi. To make sure you really are ok."

"I'm fine," he said again, not looking at me. "I-I am."

I sighed. Why did he have to be difficult? "Well I just wanna make sure. I know a bit about injuries, living in a large family with little kids who climb everywhere. I promise I won't hurt you."

Just like before, he took his time to think about it before deciding to let me do what I needed to do. It was like he was deciding whether to trust me or not. I suppose, from what he'd told me, he had never really had anyone he could trust before; he had never had a real friend. But all the same, why would he be so shy when it came to me look at his skin? What was I going to do, laugh at his hump?

At length, he nodded to me and shifted back, and I grasped the bottom of his jacket and shirt and started to pull it up. "I don't know what's you're scared of. I'm not going to make fun of you or anything. You should know by now that I don't really care what you-" I stopped and gasped as the skin became visible, horror filling me when I saw exactly what he hadn't wanted me to see- the dark bruising the covered the area. "What the-" I lifted the material further and folded it back to expose his whole back, including his hump. The bruises went all the way up, over the twisted spine and the ugly protrusion that sat behind his shoulder like an old, lumpy gnome. I gazed upon the angry patches of reddish-purple and older smudges of yellow and brown and felt tears of sympathy fill my eyes as I imagined how much pain this was causing him. And then they turned to tears of anger when I realised that _someone_ had to have done this. _Someone_ was hurting my friend.

I reached out touched the vivid skin, trailing my fingertips lightly over the colours and lumps and bumps that made up his back, and felt him shiver under my touch. "What happened to you?" I whispered hoarsely, shocked at the sight in front of me. It reminded me of a child's painting, all splashes and splotches of colour on a flesh canvas. Only this was in no way pretty or creative. Try 'upsetting' instead.

"It's n-n-not w-what… I-I-I m-mean… I-I-I have…" Quasi stammered, then took a deep breath and tried again. "I-I have a skin c-condition. I b-bruise easily."

"I'll say. But how-"

"I'm v-very clumsy. I'm always f-falling over."

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "On your back?"

"Y-yes. M-m-my arms, too. You've seen them."

"Yeah, but…" I shook my head, not quite able to believe that this could be the result of clumsiness. I might've been overreacting, but to me it just wasn't plausible. "Is... is someone hurting you? Bullies after school maybe, or something like that?"

His eyes widened, fearful. "No!"

"Are you sure?" I pressed. I knew I was asking some risky questions, but I needed to know. I also wanted to ask how life was like at home, but I was afraid to. I couldn't be that specific- I just had to let him confide in me. "You know you can tell me anything, so be honest. Is someone being violent with you?"

"No!" he repeated vehemently, shaking his head quickly. "N-nothing's happening, n-nothing's wrong. I'm just clumsy, th-that's all, I swear."

"Ok." I didn't completely believe him. Of course I didn't. But he wasn't going to tell me anything, so I just had to accept his explanation. And maybe he was 'just clumsy' and I was freaking out too much. No matter how bad it looked, it was entirely possible that I was just paranoid. We were friends, after all, and friends told each other the truth. He had told me about Esme, hadn't he? He knew he could tell me if something was happening. Maybe everything was alright after all.

I examined his back a moment longer, tracing the outline of his crooked spine and protruding hump in strange fascination before pulling his jacket back down and moving away. I wanted to make light of the situation, maybe joke around and say that I'd never complain about scoliosis again, but I all I said was: "It doesn't look serious. You'll be fine."

"Thanks." He returned to his chair, and as I picked up my guitar it occurred to me that he never would've let me see his back if he didn't trust me. That had to mean something. I had to try to believe him, at least.

We picked up our guitars started to play, making the most of the time we had left to practice again.

* * *

**_So, stuff happened. Lots of stuff. And even more stuff is coming in the future, so look out for that. Hope you liked :)_**


	15. Say Something

**_So I was talking with my friends Rochelle and Stevie a little while ago and I was telling them about these creepypasta stories that I'd accidentally found on pinterest._**

**_Stevie: (really confused) So is that a pope or something?_**

**_Me: ..._**

**_Dez: ..._**

**_Me: (starts laughing cuz I don't understand what she said but it sounds funny)_**

**_Dez: ..._**

**_Me: (starts laughing harder cuz I suddenly do understand what she said and it's hilarious)_**

**_Dez: (starts laughing cuz she gets it now)_**

**_Stevie: (embarrassed) Wait, I'm confused now. Is a pastor the same as a pope?_**

**_Me: (dying) Not that 'pasta'!_**

**_Stevie: Ooohhhh, you mean the food pasta! But that doesn't make sense..._**

**_Me: It's the name. They're a bunch of scary stories and characters and they're called creepypasta._**

**_Stevie: (starts laughing)_**

**_Me: What?_**

**_Stevie: I was just picturing a piece of macaroni or something with the pope's face on it. With a creepy expression._**

**_Me: (dying)_**

**_Dez: (dying)_**

**_Stevie (dying)_**

**_So there you go. Something funny before something serious. I told you guys last chapter to be prepared, didn't I? Cuz I think you'll have to be to read this. Some of you, anyway._**

**_So last chapter, Mich snuck around to Quasi's bedroom, they started playing guitar together and she saw something suspicious. This chapter, the holidays start, there's more sneaking around and something intense happens. That's all I'm saying._**

**_Read on :)_**

* * *

Say something, I'm giving up on you  
I'll be the one, if you want me to  
Anywhere I would've followed you  
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small  
It was over my head  
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall  
I'm still learning to love  
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you  
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you  
Anywhere I would've followed you  
Say something, I'm giving up on you.

'Say Something'- A Great Big World.

* * *

The school term soon ended and the last week of September passed in a whirlwind of parties, movies, ice-skating, trips to the city and a huge shopping trip that nearly depleted my pocket money. My regular routine of schoolwork and music was replaced by fun and sleeping in and a list of projects that wouldn't get done until after the holidays. I was constantly worried that my parents were spending too much money on us, a trait left over from our less... let's just say, less exuberant days. But as dad pointed out, he was in charge of the budget, not me, and he knew exactly what we could afford and what we couldn't and he had it all under control, so for God's sake stop worrying and let him spoil us for once. So I had fun and tried not to freak out when dinner at Sizzlers set us back more than $100. The first week of October and the second week of Spring break was going to be even more exciting- my friends and I were going up to Gympie with a friend of the family and his 3 boys to visit Dez's uncle, who lived on a big property and was throwing a massive bonfire/party like he did every year. We would camp out on the property in our little 3 or 4 person tent, play pranks on the boys who would be next to us in the bigger tent, learn to ride a motorbike, meet new people, stuff ourselves with junk food, veg in front of the TV for a few days and just hang out for a week. For Dez it was an opportunity to catch up with relatives she rarely saw. For me it would be a great chance to reconnect with my friends who I had been neglecting.

The night before we left, we all slept over Dez's place, all of us packed and really to leave early the next morning. We had a 'Pirates of the Caribbean' marathon, decorated her brother's room, took numerous selfies that ended up being deleted, played around with makeup and overdosed on sugar, so by about midnight we were bouncing around and giggling like a bunch of six-year-olds. Mercifully, when we got around to playing Truth or Dare, beyond the usual 'do you like him' no-one said anything about Quasi. I answered no, just like I had when they asked me about Robert (Dez's brother) and Max (Em's brother) and every other guy we knew, and they left it at that. I had expected them to gang up on me to force out what they thought was the truth, but even though I blew them off every day to hang out with him, they seemed to have forgotten it.

But I hadn't. The holidays had been too full for me to miss him exactly, but at 2am, when the girls had just fallen asleep and were snoring peacefully, I lay awake in my sleeping bag and stared out the window at the barely-visible stars and wondered if he was awake too. _Probably not._ Then I wondered what he would do if I woke him up at this time of night (or morning). And then I spent the next ten minutes calculating the quickest route from Dez's place to his and trying to decide whether I actually wanted to leave my warm spot on the floor to venture into the cold, dangerous streets of Boronia Heights.

I still don't know what it was that made me grab my leather jacket and a packet of lollies, jam on my sneakers and climb out the window. Nor do I understand what I wasn't scared out of my mind to be walking around a neighbourhood that was known for its crime. Boronia was all housing-commission and low-income families, and bad things happened there all the time. But, with my mind distorted by sugar, lack of sleep and adrenalin, I never even stopped to consider whether I might be putting my life in danger or not.

I'm surprised I made it there without being mugged or raped or murdered, but the odds were in my favour than night and there was no-one about on the footpaths or the road. Good thing, too, for I probably looked a strange sight- messed up hair, leather jacket and dark blue pajama bottoms. A few times I thought I was lost, but I shuffled down Short Street, across the road, past the shops, and into the next street, and then I started recognising landmarks- that fence, that tree, that dead possum by the side of the road that still hadn't been disposed of and was now just bits of fur clinging to a skeleton of the creature it once was. And then I found the street I was looking for and the rest was easy.

I lie.

It would've been easy if it was daylight and I could see exactly what was in my way. It would've been easy if I had a torch with me or if the light from the streetlamps reached all the way to the back of the house and if my blind determination had lasted a bit longer. And it would've been _so_ much easier if I didn't have an overactive imagination that frequently ran away with me when confronted with something like this that could've been the setting for a horror movie. Or at least a _really_ scary story. I almost turned back when I saw the shadows cast on the house that flickered every so often as the streetlamp lured bugs in to their deaths. My stomach twisted as the house seemed to leer at me, its window like great dark eyes and the door like a cavernous mouth eager to devour me. The yard that I knew held nothing but grass and rubbish suddenly seemed like a collection of things ready to pounce. Terrified thoughts started swirling disjointedly around in my mind. What really lived in that grass? What wicked creatures lurked under the piles of rock, dirt, bottles and other trash? If I stepped into this unknown territory, would my feet be grabbed by unseen hands? Or would I fall down a hole and hit my head, unconscious and prey to whatever roamed here at night?

My heart was beating hard and painfully loud in my ears by this time, and my breathing quickened at every noise I heard. I had to stop imagining things or I would stay rooted to the spot all night, unable to move or think. I'd probably freeze to death if someone didn't grab me first- the damp, cold ground was already seeping into my battered sneakers and numbing my feet. I had to move. I had to stop freaking out and think clearly. Move, dammit!

Have you ever tried talking some sense into yourself? I don't know about you, but it never works with me. Time for a different plan.

I opened the packet of lollies, wincing at the great noise it made, and shakily pulled out a snake. I couldn't tell what colour it was in the dim light but at this point I couldn't care less. I needed to the sugar.

As soon as I bit into it, my head started to clear. It's hard to be scared when you're chewing on something sweet and the artificial sweetener coats the inside of your mouth like a comforting blanket. The things in the dark that were surrounding me backed off and suddenly my feet were obeying my brain again. They took me over the fence and slowly across the yard, where I picked up a stick and held it in front of me like a sword. Spiders beware- there was no messing with me tonight.

I shoved another lolly in my mouth as I started down the side of the house, heading towards the corner window. The light didn't reach this far, but in the almost-blackness I could see that it was open a crack, and when I came nearer, I stopped, eyes widening, for I had heard something. Just a quiet, constant, heartbreaking sound.

Crying.

Quasi was crying.

It wasn't loud. In the Doctor Who episode 'The Beast Below', the Doctor had said that children mostly cry to get attention or to let everyone know that they were hurt. But if a child was crying silently, it was because they just couldn't stop. Something terrible had happened, I was sure of it, and being the curious person I was, I wanted to find out what it was and try to help in any way I could.

So I knocked lightly on the window and peered inside, my breath fogging up the glass. "Quasi?"

The crying stopped at the sound of my voice, but there was no movement from inside. So I tried again. "Quasi? It's Mich…"

The rustle of sheets and movement behind the window; then Quasi's pale, tear-stained face appeared and the window was pushed up quickly. "What are you doing here?" he whispered fiercely, wiping the last of his tears away with an impatient hand. He looked almost angry that I was there, which surprised me for a moment and made me wonder uneasily whether I had actually done the right thing coming. Maybe I had interrupted something important, though that didn't seem very likely.

"I couldn't sleep," I answered with a shrug, subtly (or I thought so, anyway) examining him like a doctor examines a patient. I wanted to know what it was that was upsetting him, why he was always looking so mournful and why I had just found him crying in bed. I knew by now that though he knew I was his friend, he would not tell me what I wanted to know. But I asked anyway, just for the sake of it. "So, what's up with you?"

"What? Nothing, I'm fine." He looked away, and I wondered whether he knew that I was never going to give up, never going to stop trying to find out the truth.

"You were crying."

"N-no I wasn't."

"Yes you were, I heard you."

"I...I was d-dreaming."

I crossed my arms. "Ok, what were you dreaming about?"

"My mother," he answered quickly and almost defiantly.

I didn't believe him. For one thing, I was sure he hadn't been asleep- he had reacted too quickly. And his answer was so unconvincing it was ridiculous- I was about to chastise him for his terrible lying when I noticed the dark bruise that spread under his good eye and was immediately distracted. Without thinking I reached forward to touch it and was startled when he jerked away because I pressed too hard.

"Oops, sorry." I shook my head in disapproval. "Where'd you get that?"

"Ah... A- A ball." I almost snorted- even the first syllable sounded false.

For the first time I actually felt a bit hurt. We had become pretty good friends and he had told me the truth about his actions with Esme, and I had thought he'd tell me of all people if anything was going on, but it seemed that all he ever did lately was lie to me. Such obvious lies, too. Did he actually think I believe him?

"A ball, huh?" I took another lolly and offered the packet to him. "What kind of ball?"

"A... a cricket b-ball. We were playing and it flew into my face-"

"What, you mean from a bat?"

"Y-yeah-"

I crossed my arms. "Uh-uh. A cricket ball coming at you at that speed would do some serious damage. Choose something lighter." He froze, a lolly halfway to his mouth, and I laughed at his stricken expression, thought I really felt nothing like laughing. "What, surprised I saw through your flawless deception? 'Course I know you're lying. You're always lying." I thumped the windowsill, suddenly angry and forgetting to keep my voice down. "Why do you always lie to me? I thought we were friends!"

He glanced at the door in panic, fear in his eyes. "Shhhhh! I-I-"

"Don't you shush me!" I put my hands on my hips and glared. "Why don't you trust me? Friendship is a two-way thing ya know, and that includes talking. You've gotta start telling me the truth." I leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "What is going on?"

He drew back, rubbing the backs of his arms and shrugging helplessly. "I-I-I'm s-sorry-"

"You know what?" I threw the packet of lollies at him and shoved my hands in my pockets, tired and fed up. "Keep 'em. I'm going home. I have defended you time and time again, and I'm willing to help you. If you can't talk to me even though you know I can back you up in whatever's going on, there's no point in me staying.

"B-but it's not-" he started to protest weakly, but I help up a hand and cut him off.

"Goodnight, Quasi."

* * *

The walk home was uneventful and quick; I walked fast and my mind was blank except for my frustration at his reluctance to talk to me. But as I climbed in Dez's window, stripped off my jacket and shoes and nearly fell onto my sleeping bag in exhaustion, I hoped I hadn't ruined whatever tense friendship we had by getting mad at him. God only knew what he had already had to put up with in his life without me flipping out at him. I didn't hope for very long, thought, because in few minutes I was fast asleep.

Next morning, we left for Gympie.

* * *

Gympie was great. Although there was nothing interesting in town and the country usually bored me to tears, we were kept busy as we helped chop wood and set up the bonfire, made desserts, planned pranks to pull on the boys and started learning to ride the little motorbike. And although I ran over one of Sean's precious saplings and fell off the bike more than once and was subject to many episodes of 'Peppa Pig' by Dez's little cousin, I had the time of my life. Because for one thing, Sean (Dez's uncle) played guitar. So in the moments when we weren't socializing and being crazy idiots and wrestling the boys to the point of injury, I was getting guitar lessons; and by the end of the week I could play a number of easy songs and was looking for something a bit more challenging. I was so proud of myself and I couldn't wait to show Quasi all I had learned.

I didn't think about him a lot over the trip, but when I did, I felt guilty. I hadn't meant to get angry at him, and the more I thought about it the more I realised that if he didn't want to tell me what was going on in his life, then I had no right to try to force the issue. It wasn't any of my business, even if we were friends. I mean it wasn't like I was going to tell him every little thing about me and my life and 'air my dirty laundry' at him, so to speak. There were just certain things that I wouldn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone, not even the girls. So why would I try to make him talk and begrudge him the right to keep stuff to himself, even if I was insanely curious and a little bit worried? All I could do was hope it wasn't anything terrible and move on. It was probably just bullies after school, anyway. Lots of kids got bullied and put down and didn't want to share it. He was strong- if things got too bad I was sure he could take of himself. So I told myself thing whenever I let myself think too much about it and then dropped it, choosing instead to make the most of what was left of the holidays.

But all too soon it was time to go home. Friday morning I sprayed silly string all over the boys' tent, then helped pack up the camping stuff, packed my bags, ate the last off the leftover pavlova for breakfast, said goodbye to everyone and hopped into the van, ready to go home.

The ride home was noisy and took all day, the eight of us- me, Lester, his 3 boys, Dez, Bex and Em- packed in and exchanging photos and stories and complaining about having to go back to school and laughing over funny things on pinterest and uploading photos to instagram, and then Lester turned the radio up and we had a karaoke thing instead. It was so much fun and I was a little sad when it ended and we were dropped off at home.

That night we slept over Dez's again. I was surprised when, exhausted from our busy week of partying hard, everyone crashed at about 11. It was so unlike our usual sleepovers, where we didn't start heading for bed until 4 in the morning and then those who fell asleep first were drawn on with sharpies. Overtired, I found it hard to get comfortable and felt wide awake. I tried to sleep for a little while, but my mind was too active. I think you can guess what happened next. I was outta that window and halfway down the street before I know what I was doing, hyped up and spurred on by the success of my last late-night escapade. But what you wouldn't guess- at least not at first- was what else happened that night.

* * *

There was no car in the driveway when I got there. The spot was completely empty, and the only thing that showed there ever was a car was the flat grass and faint tire marks outside the house. Was he out? At this time of night?

As far as I knew, Quasi never went out. He just didn't. Perhaps it was his father. If that was the case, I didn't need to worry about being quiet and I could stay for longer. Good. I smiled and climbed the fence, then grabbed a stick and walked quickly around the side of the house. No fear of terrifying creatures this time!

There was a faint light coming from his room, which I nearly tripped over and fell on my face to get to once I saw it. But when I looked in the window, I couldn't see anyone. The lamp on the desk across the room was on and pointed at the bed, but there was no-one there.

"Quasi?" I called softly, pushing up the window with some difficulty and sticking my head in the room. "Hello?"

A tousled red head popped up from out of nowhere and scared me half to death, making me bang my head on the windowframe. "Mich?"

I winced, rubbing my head. "You know that's the second time you've frightened me to the point of injury?"

He glanced at the little clock on his bedside table then back at me. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, nice to see you too." I pushed the window up a bit more and crossed my arms on the sill. "Same as last time. We got home from Gympie today and everyone was knackered, so they're all asleep. I couldn't, so here I am." I sighed. "Actually, what I really wanted to say is I'm sorry for getting mad at you last week. I have no right to force you to say anything and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's your business, not mine. Forgive me?"

"O-of course." He looked at the clock again and an expression of panic crossed his face. "You sh-should probably go now."

"Already? But there's no car in the driveway- you're dad's not here, is he?"

"N-no, but he'll b-be home soon."

"He won't find me. I did spend the last few years successfully trying to be invisible."

He shook his head forcefully. "You sh-should leave. It's...it's safer."

"I swear, he won't even know I'm here." I drew my jacket around myself and breathed out, watching the smoke it made in the air and trying to ignore the fact that the cold ground was seeping into my shoes and numbing my toes. "Beside, even if he did, what would he do? Ground you for having a girl over without permission? Take away your guitar? Actually, that would be pretty bad, but seriously, it's not like he's gonna doing anything major like arrest me-"

"Mich..." Quasi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if summoning his courage; I frowned in concern when I saw that his hands were shaking. "I-I... well... he..."

We were interrupted by the sound of a car driving up the street and headlights flashing over the house, and the car pulled into the driveway; at this, Quasi went white as a sheet and ducked down onto the floor again- from the look of it he was shoving whatever he had been doing under the bed out of site.

"You need to leave now." His voice was shaky, fearful.

"Oh, Quasi, really-"

He looked at me pleadingly. "_Please_ just go."

"Ok, ok, fine," I grumbled, edging away from the window as I heard the sounds of the car door slamming and the front door being unlocked. "But he really will never know I'm here." An idea popped into my mind and I almost laughed at the obviousness of it. Quasi was sweet for not wanting me to be found by his obviously strict father, but I didn't need to leave. I could just wait until he went to bed and then go back and talk some more. So I stood there leaning against the wall, listening to the front door opening and the heavy and... uneven footsteps? I frowned. There was a thump, a crash, the smash of something ceramic or glass and a string of slurred curses. My jaw dropped. This guy was a policeman. A policeman had had too much to drink and actually driven home? If anyone should know better... I jumped as the door opened in Quasi's room.

"Hey Quasimodo, you ugly sot!" slurred the voice whom the curses belonged to. My eyes widened and my hands clenched in immediate fury at the words, but before I had gotten over the first shock the voice was right next to the window, and I had to cover my mouth to stop the squeak of surprise from giving me away. "What's this window open for; it's freezing out there." Said window was yanked down and slammed shut, and I edged back towards it and peeked through the glass.

I was just in time to see him grab a handful of my friend's hair and yank him off the bed and onto the ground. Quasi immediately flipped over and started backing towards the wall, terror written plainly on his twisted features. The man who was supposed to be his father followed, smirking as he spoke something that I couldn't hear and which made Quasi cringe. He asked a question; Quasi looked down, submissive, and answered it quietly. They conversed for a few minutes, his father waving his arms around drunkenly and him downcast and shrinking into himself with every answer he made; then he obviously said something the other didn't like, because Officer Frollo suddenly and unexpectedly slapped him and kicked him onto his side. I watched, tears frozen in my eyes and both hands covering my mouth with horror as Quasimodo curled himself into a ball and made no move to defend himself from the drunk's boot that swung and struck his back and side again and again and again...

I think, as I watched this horrible scene unfolding in front of my eyes, the thing that got to me the most wasn't the violence but Quasi's reaction to it. Despite the ridiculous amount of pain he must have been going through, he made not a sound; he never said a word, never cried out, never made even a whimper. The thought that had entered my mind back during the beating Phoebus had given him came back to me now- this must have happened so many times before that he was almost used to it. But for how long? How many times had he been beaten, abused, hurt so badly that now he always expected it and didn't even try to escape? I was afraid of what the answer might be.

I don't know how long it went for, how long I stood there unable to move or breath while my friend was beaten black and blue by his own father, but eventually the drunk began to stumble between kicks and decided to quit for the night. He aimed one last clumsy, parting kick at Quasi's head and lurched out of the room, slamming the door behind him. When he was gone, Quasimodo slowly, painfully picked himself up and stumbled the last few steps to his bed, where he collapsed in a broken pile and didn't move for a while; and when I was freaking out that _holy crap he might be dead oh please don't be dead come on move dammit move_ after what seemed like ages his shoulders started to shake and he was crying just like he was a week ago when the exact same thing must have happened just before I got there and I never had an idea of the scale of what had occurred.

The window was pushed up and I was halfway inside by the time I had even thought of it, and I landed on the bed next to him with all the grace of a baby giraffe. But when I gently touched the top of his head in an effort to be of some comfort, I was not expecting him to sit up suddenly and look at me, the tears in his eyes turning to fury, and whisper angrily "What are you still doing here?" as if I had just committed the worst crime imaginable.

"I-I-I'm sorry," I stammered, tears blurring my eyes as I saw the way he held himself, gingerly and almost paralyzed with pain. "I thought I could wait until he left... I didn't know he w-was gonna..." Despite my efforts, the tears fell and I choked out a sob. "Oh Quasi, why didn't you _tell_ me?"

He shook his head, his breathing labored. "Go away, Mich. Please just go away."

"But why-"

"Go."

"But Quasi-"

"Go!"

"I can't just-"

He looked up and glared at me again, cutting me off for the third time. "Go. Away. I don't want you here. Just go away and don't you dare tell anyone what you've seen. Get out of here."

He was serious. I shook my head, lips quivering, and backed away from him towards the window. I scrambled through and landed unevenly on the ground outside, then looked back inside at the boy on the bed who refused to cry again until I was gone, wondering if we were ever going to be able to go back to what we used to be.

I watched him for a moment, but when he eased himself over and slammed the window in my face, I left, my feet searching blindly in the darkness for the way home as I cried and cried for everything that had happened in the last few months and realized that I was back to where I had started. He didn't want me to tell anyone or say anything, and for now at least, I had to honor that, no matter how strong the urge was to ring the police and blurt out the whole story.

Once again, there was nothing I could do.

* * *

**_I really didn't want to leave it here, but whatever else I wanted to write would take too long and I guess it can wait. Let me just say that there is a reason that she can't tell anyone about what happened and you'll find out next chapter._**

**_Review and tell me what you think. I'm expecting lots of capitals and exclamation marks from at least one of you, haha :) Also, tell me what you think is going to happen next, I like to hear your ideas and input._**

**_See you next time :)_**


	16. Fix You

**_Hey guys, I've got a long one for you today. More than 7000 words. Hopefully I've done ok; I've gotten into Sherlock, so I've been distracted trying to plan a new fanfic and I'm sick and my parents decided to change our bedrooms around, so I've been unpacking, too. But I don't want to make excuses, so lets get this show on the road._**

**_Last chapter, Mich wandered the streets of a dangerous neighborhood and found out a bit of shocking info about Quasi's homelife. This chapter, there's singing, angst, Phoebus makes a shocking declaration, we learn a bit more about Esme and there's some nice Kish fluff for you._**

**_Enjoy :)_**

* * *

When you try your best but you don't succeed  
When you get what you want but not what you need  
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep  
Stuck in reverse

When the tears come streaming down your face  
When you lose something you can't replace  
When you love someone but it goes to waste  
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home  
And ignite your bones  
I will try to fix you.

'Fix You'- Coldplay.

* * *

School went back on Monday; and as always, I saw neither hide nor hair of Quasimodo until music class. I think it's fair to say that by then I was nearly a nervous wreck. All weekend I had had the image of him lying there, beaten and bruised from numerous kicks, collapsed on the bed like a pile of bones, playing constantly in front of my eyes. All weekend I had been holding in tears and snapping at everyone out of frustration. My family just thought I was PMSing and didn't question my moody behavior, and though I wanted to tell them everything (oh, how I wanted to!) I was forced to stay silent. _Don't you dare tell anyone what you've seen_, he had said. _Don't you dare._

So I didn't.

By the time music rolled around, my mind was a complex mix of emotions, and though I kept my expression neutral and blank, inside I was ready to burst. I sat in my spot at the back, listening to everyone talk about their holidays and waiting anxiously for my partner to arrive. At length, when my nerves were starting to make themselves visible in my fidgeting fingers and I was worried that something terrible had happened over the weekend, he slunk in just ahead of Miss Basso and slid noiselessly into his chair next to me, where he sat and stared at the desk as the teacher brought the class to order and jumped straight into the lesson. I got out my book as asked, but my mind was solely on the boy next to me. I wanted to do something, say something, anything, to show that I was there for him; I was even hit for a second with the sudden urge to hug him, and had reached out a hand to touch his back before I stopped and withdrew, feeling stupid. We were in class and it just wasn't appropriate; and besides, he probably wouldn't welcome the attention. But still had to say something.

"Hey," I whispered, leaning towards him a bit and barely moving my lips, "You right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he whispered back, still focused on the desk.

I almost laughed at that- there were so many reasons for him to not be alright- but instead I whispered, "Are we still on for lunchtime?" Then I mentally kicked myself because _that sounded so selfish and surely he wouldn't want to do music while he was in pain-_

"Yes," he answered.

I smiled despite myself, for I really did enjoy our jam sessions and it would've been a pity to have to end them so soon. Still, I didn't want to sound like I was harsh and demanding. "Are you sure? I mean, we don't have to if you don't feel-"

"Yes," he said again, and I guessed that was the end of it. We were going to practice whether he was up to it or not.

Miss Basso passed us just then, handing out our marked assignments from last term, and she actually smiled when she came to us. "A-minus, good job, guys. You have a very good knowledge of music theory and culture, and excellent understanding of your chosen genres and music groups. And, to top it off, you work very well together, unlike _some_ people around here…" She trailed off, looking pointedly at a few other pairs who had begun to play up. I glanced around the room, embarrassed by the praise, and heard others begin to giggle and whisper. I couldn't help shrinking in my seat a little as I heard my name and Quasi's mentioned; I had thought that being the topic of people's conversations wouldn't bother me anymore, but evidently it did.

The teacher obviously got the gist of the conversations happening around her, because she briefly glanced from Quasi and me to those with the loudest voices and put her hand on her hip, staring at them until the rest of the room grew quiet and they were the only ones talking.

"Miss Waters, Miss Brennan, would you like detention?" Her voice was no longer the warm tone it had been when speaking to us; it was now as loud as ever with a stern ring of warning thrown in.

"No, Miss Basso," they chorused.

"Well shut it then." She laid the papers on our desks and continued on; looking back, she raised an eyebrow, and I swore I saw her eyes twinkle at both of us. My heart sank even as I smiled at her stern choice of words. Did she believe the rumors too? It looked like it, and it even looked like she approved. Not surprising, since teachers were, in fact, the biggest shippers on the planet. My eyes widened at the thought of it. Ignoring those who liked to poke fun, how many more people shipped us? I began to fidget again and glanced at Quasi, who still refused to look at me. I wasn't quite sure what to think of others trying to decide my destiny for me, but I did know that I would've laughed in the past. Now... I shook my head and read through the comments on the assignment, acutely aware that I was just trying to distract myself again.

* * *

He could've cancelled. I mean, if he wasn't feeling up to it he could've said so. I wouldn't have been mad. But I guess he thought he owed me or felt obliged to keep going despite whatever pain he was in. Maybe it was a distraction. Either way, I was glad that we were continuing our lessons. For one thing, it would give me an opportunity to talk to him properly and find out why the hell I couldn't tell anyone what was happening at home. I also couldn't wait to show him what I'd learned over the holidays, and when we brought our lunch to the art room that day I decided to start with that instead of a confrontation. So wolfed down half my sandwich and grabbed my guitar while he was still setting up his place, and as he ate I began to play. First I played 'Everybody Hurts', which I had somehow learnt by heart in that short week, and smiled when he closed his eyes reverently and swayed a little to the song that obviously meant a lot to him. And then I started playing little tunes, like 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' and 'Ode to Joy' and 'Amazing Grace', not using actual chords but just plucking the strings in the right order like I had been taught and which I had found was a lot easier than playing proper songs. Then I started to fumble through 'You Belong With Me', which had been in a list of easy songs and which I had been in the middle of learning when the trip ended. I was still was jerky and slow, and I kept losing my place and having to start over, but I noticed that since we began our sessions I had become a little smoother with changing hand positions and my musical ear had improved. I also noticed that while I sang along to the tune, the usual flood of memories that came with that song was... gone. 'YBWM' was usually accompanied by flashbacks and tears that I would have to blink away before anyone noticed. But as I played the song that had once been my favourite I realized that the only thing I was thinking of was how to play the chords and what octave to sing at and whether I sounded any good. For the first time in about a year, my 9th and 10th grade theme song was just a song, and it looked like I was finally, _finally_ over him.

The internal revelation was so unexpected that I stopped in the middle of the song and laughed with relief and happiness, not caring how it looked to Quasi. I was free. I was completely free. And it was liberating. I was never going to let myself be controlled by bad memories again.

Quasi had finished lunch by now and was getting out his own guitar. I pulled out a chair for him and moved mine back so that he had some room, and replied to his inquiring look, "Oh, it was nothing. I just remembered something I forgot, that's all." When he was ready to play, I asked him if there were any other songs he could teach me. "Can you play any songs from Styx? I know 'Lady' and 'Desert Moon' can be played on guitar, but they're a bit complicated... My favourite is 'Babe', but that sounds a bit hard too..."

"I can play that."

"What, 'Babe'?"

"Yes."

"Oh good!" I sat back in my chair and looked at him expectantly. "Take it away."

He nodded and took a moment to find the chords, and then he started to play. I smiled at the familiar tune and started to mouth the words when the verse came up, but stopped why I realized he wasn't singing. "Can you sing along? Please? I mean, if you can- you don't have to, but-"

He nodded again and started the verse over, and this time he sang along to the music.

"Babe I'm leaving  
I must be on my way  
The time is drawing near  
My train is going  
I see it in your eyes  
The love, the need, your tears..."

I was captivated from the first line. I sat there, mouth open, staring at him, as a sound I never knew existed caressed my ears and gave me goosebumps. If I had been feeling dramatic I would've called it the voice of an angel, but as it was, I was speechless. How could I have guess that under his unfortunate-looking exterior (and I wouldn't have told anyone, but strangely, it was an exterior that I was starting to like) and hoarse, quiet speaking voice was a singing voice that could break your heart?

"But I'll be lonely without you  
And I'll need your love to see me through  
So please believe me  
My heart is in your hands  
And I'll be missing you

'Cause you know it's you babe  
Whenever I get weary  
And I've had enough  
Feel like giving up  
You know it's you babe  
Giving me the courage  
And the strength I need  
Please believe that it's true  
Babe, I love you."

I was still staring when he finished, and he looking uncomfortable in the silence, looking down, then around, and then, for the first time that day, he looked me in the eye. I could practically feel the nervousness radiating off him. "H-how was that?"

"Huh..." My heart was beating faster than I would've liked and it was mixing with the butterflies in my stomach, making me feel like I had the whole zoo inside of me. I tried to calm myself, feeling kind of silly for getting so worked up over a pretty voice, but it was proving kind of difficult with those iridescent green eyes fixed on me. "Th-th-that was... that was... amazing. That was amazing!"

"Really?" He seemed to have a hard time believing me.

"You mean you don't _know_ that you have a voice that can melt stone?"

His eyes widened. "Melt s-s-stone?"

"Y-yeah." I looked down, suddenly embarrassed. _That might've been too much..._ "I mean, you're really good. You have a nice voice."

"No I don't," he said quietly, looking away. "You're being too nice. I'm not good at anything, really. I have no talent."

"Wha-?" My brow furrowed in confusion. "Of course you do!"

"No, I don't."

"Who told you that?" I leaned forward, angry now. "Who told you that you have no talent? Was it that good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch who was beating you to a pulp on Friday night?"

"Mich-"

"When were you going to tell me about that, huh? And why can't I tell anyone? Domestic and Child Abuse helplines are just a few numbers away. Hell, it would all be over with one call to the police! I'll do it for you if you don't want to; it won't be too hard."

"No."

"Why not? Why won't you let me help you out?"

"I don't need your help!" I blinked at him, taken aback. He glared at me and stood up, reaching for his guitar case. "You k-keep trying to help me, but I don't want it. I don't want to be your p-project. So you can stop p-pretending to be my friend, alright?"

"P-p-pretending...?" I spluttered, unable to believe what I was hearing. "You think I'm pretending-?"

"That's all everyone ever does, isn't it?" He zipped up his case and headed for the door. "Esme made me th-think she liked me, and I was s-stupid enough to b-believe every w-word she said-"

"Whoa, whoa, wait-" I squinted at him. "You think I'm doing what Esme did? Is that what you think?"

He looked at the floor, hand on the doorknob. "I don't know, but I don't want that to happen again. I'm used to being alone, I can take care of myself. I don't need your pity or your help. So just leave me alone, ok?"

I don't remember how long I sat there, mouth open in shock, but by the time I had gathered my thoughts together and jumped up to follow him, he was gone. I groaned and stomped my foot, angry with myself as well as him. I knew for certain that I wasn't Esme, but was I really taking advantage of his musical skills? Of that I suddenly wasn't too sure.

* * *

There was still heaps of time left before lunch ended, so I locked up and went outside. At length, after wandering aimlessly around the school grounds and berating myself for letting him run off like that (who knew what would happen if someone caught him alone?) I found myself at the basketball court. Now I had space to think.

What had changed? I thought back to the term before, when we sat together after I had introduced him to the girls and told him that I only chose the best. He had almost cried, he was so moved. What had changed his mind? Was he embarrassed that I had seen what I wasn't meant to have seen? Was that it? Was he afraid of what I might think of him now? Ugh, I was so confused.

The sound of footsteps found its way into my head, along with the bouncing of a ball. I turned as it flew through the air and rebounded off the backboard towards me, catching it just before it hit me in the face. "Hey, watch it!"

The owner of the ball smirked and tossed his blonde hair out of his eyes. "Sorry."

"No you're not." I tossed it back and shoved my hands in my pockets, studying Phoebus as he bounced it once, twice, three times and shot for the hoop, missing miserably. "Wow, you're really out of practice. What happened to those amazing reflexes and dead-straight aim? You used to be able to get it in from the middle of the court!"

"Oh, so you remember that?" He dug around in his pocket and offered a small packet to me, putting something in his mouth as he did so. "Do you remember these too?"

I just turned up my nose at him and his Fisherman's Friends. "Yeah, and how you tricked me into eating one and expected me to freak out? Fail. I just waited until you weren't looking and spat it out."

"I did see that, actually."

"Yeah right."

"I did!"

I sighed. "What do you want, James?"

"Nothing." He picked up the ball and took another shot; he missed, again, and threw it to me. "Just wondering what you're doing in the middle of the court without a ball, staring into space."

"Shouldn't you be with Esme?"

"Should you be with Quasimodo?"

"God, what is it with people and shipping us together?" I shot for the hoop and, surprisingly, got it in. "Me and Quasi aren't a thing, Phoebus. Seriously, we aren't. We just hang out and play music, that's all."

"Ok, fine, but my question still stands. You spend, like, every lunchtime with him, right?"

"He's mad at me right now and ran off and I can't find him. What about you?"

Phoebus rolled his eyes. "Esme is being a bitch and I couldn't stand it anymore. Do you know how many threats and plans I've heard from her? She's determined to get you back for 'ruining her life' and 'spoiling her last year'. She so over-dramatic and emotional and... just stupid. This whole thing is stupid."

I held up a hand to interrupt him. "Last year?"

"Yeah, she's moving to Victoria at the end of the year when she gets her P's."

"Which will give the school a much needed rest from all this drama, hopefully."

"Oh, she cannot _wait_ to get away from that 'backwards Asian farm'- her words- and start living in the real world. I told her she's crazy and that the real world isn't much to look at, but she won't-"

"Asian farm?" I interrupted again, curious to hear anything about Esme. She wasn't afraid to air other people's private lives and backgrounds, but I had never heard much about her own home life. "You mean she lives on one of those huge mass-produce places? A yellow-eye farm? The ones with rows and rows of greenhouses and junk everywhere?

"That just about sums it up, yeah. He dad's a Cambodian immigrant and he runs a pretty big food business- they grow tomatoes... or... something... whatever. Anyway, she's pretty much disowned him cuz of all the crap the farmers are getting and she can't wait to move out. It's the only thing she talks more about than you."

"Interesting." I shook my head. "She never says anything about herself- I always thought she was Italian or something, but I knew she wasn't completely European. At least, I knew a few weeks ago."

"Spanish," Phoebus corrected me. "Esme's half Spanish and half Cambodian. She didn't want anyone to know her real roots, but she told me about it once. I think she's ashamed of her dad 'cause he's a lowly farmer and she doesn't want to be associated with that image."

"What a snob." I put a hand on my hip and tilted my head at him. "So, if she doesn't want anyone to know, why are you telling me?"

"Well it's not like you're gonna spread it around and use it against her. Pretty much everyone around here is low income or council estate or something like that, so it's no shock."

"True enough. And how are you gonna take the separation? Long phone calls into the night, emails, driving down for holidays and all that long-distance relationship stuff?"

"Actually..." He rubbed his neck and winced, looking at the ground, and I think I knew exactly what he was thinking. And it did not make me very happy.

"Oh, don't tell me- you want to break up with her?"

He looked around as if worried someone would hear us. "I've been thinking about it, yeah, if you must know." At my look he shrugged defensively. "Well I'm getting tired of all the drama and emotions and crap that's going on. You don't have to listen to her every day, raving on and on about pranks and revenge and high-school status. I'm starting to think she's losing it."

"Are you really going to do that to her when she's already feeling compromised?" I demanded, strangely angry. It was funny- I would never have been able to talk to him like this a few months ago, but since everything had happened I felt stronger and able to do anything. And right now, hearing that Phoebus James was thinking of breaking up with someone again, I thought that I owed it to myself to make him realize what he was doing the way I hadn't been able to before. "I mean, I can't stand the girl myself, but she must think the world of you to not be able to see you for the idiot you are. Do you have any idea at all of how she would feel if you upped and left right now?"

"What's that got to do with you?"

"Nothing, really, but..." I bit my lip and looked away. "It's just that I feel sorry for her, having gone through the same thing myself."

"Oh..." Phoebus looked at the ground and blew the air out of his cheeks. "About that..." He scratched his head awkwardly. "What I said that time, about missing you? I _was_ just trying to keep your attention, but it was partly true. I _am_ sorry that I hurt you, but I didn't know that you'd be so upset. You never said anything or cried or acted like you cared, so I just thought you didn't."

"Oh, I cared. But keeping feelings bottled up is a skill a lot of girls have. It's kind of a defense mechanism."

"Well, again, I'm sorry. I didn't know any better and I treated you badly. Can you possibly forgive me?"

"I'm a good enough person to forgive you, but not stupid enough to trust you." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why would you want my forgiveness? Why would you care if I like you or not?" He was silent, but as he looked up to meet my eyes and raised his eyebrows, I just knew. "No. Oh, no no no no no no you don't, I'm not that stupid-"

"No, you're not stupid at all! You're funny and sarcastic and aggressive and I like that, but you're also kind and thoughtful and compassionate. Just look how you've taken pity on Quasimodo and-"

"I have not 'taken pity' on Quasimodo. He's my friend, ok?"

"Made friends with him, then." Phoebus sighed wearily. "Look, I'm telling you the truth. Esme just isn't the girl I thought she was, and I'm starting to see that you've always been the one I needed, and I was too dumb see that before. Why don't we give it another try?"

I stared at him, convinced he was telling the truth. He actually wanted to break up with Esme and get with me. This was actually happening. For a moment I was hit with a memory of us sitting together at a basketball game, sharing food and just having fun, and it made me wonder if we could actually be like that again. And then I realized what it would mean, what would be the end result, and how it would affect others, and I shook my head. "It would be a fine proposition- if I was a stupid girl."

"What?" Phoebus looked upset, and rightly so. "I'm baring my soul to you, Mich-"

"I understand that, and you know, I might've gone with it, if I hadn't once been just like her." I didn't know how to make him see- he was the stupid one, never thinking about others unless it was good for him. "Look, one of the stupidest mistakes in life is thinking that the person who hurt you won't hurt you again. I read somewhere to never let an old flame burn you twice. And I may not like Esme, but I feel a responsibility to do the right thing and not steal her guy. That's like the highest part of the girl code. I can't do something like that. Do you even care how much it would break her heart?"

"She's your enemy- why would you care?"

"Oh, you wanna know why I care about how she feels? You wanna know why I give a crap that you're going to break her heart?" I threw the ball at him as hard as I could and took a step towards him, fists clenched, anger surging through me. "Because I know how it feels, Phoebus. I know how it feels to have the person you thought liked you turn his back on you and walk out of your life without any explanation. I know how it feels to scroll through emails and messages and read them over and over because they're the only thing left and you pretend that it's ok and when you go to school the next day it'll all be the same as usual. I know," Here I stopped, trying to get control of my breathing and perhaps also the tears that I would've denied were there, "I know... how it feels to stand alone when someone used to stand with you, to cry so hard at night that you can't breathe, to pray for someone to come back and tell you it was a mistake, to watch someone walk away and never look back. I know." I glanced up and found him staring at me, eyes wide, surprise and realization written all over his features, and I gave him a watery smile. "That's why I care. That's why I want you to try and work through it. And that's why I'm not going to go back to you. We're only young once, and it's ok to want to have fun, but for once you need to think about how what you do will affect other people."

"Wow." Phoebus took a step back, eyes shifting uncomfortably. "You're really still upset about that?"

"Actually... no." I thought back to my moment of clarity in the art-room. "I used to be. For a long time I was angry and upset and absolutely miserable, as you are when you get your heart broken, and it went on for so long that I couldn't remember anything else except the feeling that I got whenever I saw you or heard your name." I closed my eyes and shook my head sadly. "All those months I spent hating you, I could've been getting on with my life. But I didn't, and I wasted all that time pining over what I thought we had, and I'm ashamed of myself for doing it. But finally, finally..." I laughed and looked up at him, feeling peace. "I played a song today that used to remind me of you and nothing happened. No tears, no nostalgia, no mopey stuff. It's just a song now. I'm over it. I'm free. Free to be my own person and take control of my life. I could fall in love again or stay single for a while, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm finally, _finally_ happy. So no, I'm not upset anymore."

Phoebus nodded, not knowing what to say, and bounced the ball a few times for lack of something useful to do. He shot for the hoop, missed, and passed it to me, and we played silently for a while until he decided to ask a question.

"You said Quasimodo is mad you?"

"Yeah, um, I saw something he didn't want me to see and then I tried to talk about it. He didn't want to and told me that he didn't need my help, and then he accused me of pretending to be his friend like Esme did. I don't know what's the matter with him- we were fine last term." I sighed. "He's wrong, he's _completely_ wrong. You know, I spend pretty much every day with him, learning how to play guitar, being a shoulder to cry on if he needs it, protecting him. I gave up being invisible and became a potential target for him. I stepped out of my comfort zone for him and became the only friend he's got. And he thinks that I was pretending?"

Phoebus frowned. "Why, though? Why did you bother doing any of that? Why did you decide to become his friend and risk all that bullying happening to you?"

"I don't know. It just happened. I was so certain of what I wanted, and then he came along and changed everything." I paused, trying to find the right words. "I just... I couldn't bear to be a spectator again. There comes a time, I guess, when silence is betrayal, and I just felt that I couldn't bear to watch anymore. I had to do something."

"Ok, so you did something. You helped him out a few times." Phoebus raised an eyebrow. "But you didn't need to spend every single day with him. What was that about?"

"I wanted to make sure he's safe, and lately he's been teaching me how to play guitar. And also..." I bit my lip, wondering if I should be confiding in my ex-boyfriend about this. "I don't want him to be alone anymore, you know? He's been bullied pretty much his whole life and he's never had a friend, and that's not right. He says he doesn't need help and doesn't need people but that's crap. I know he does, and I want to be there for him."

"But how can you bear it? I don't mean any disrespect to him, but he is _really ugly._ How does it not bother you?"

"Why should it? And besides, he's not ugly." I shrugged. "Not to me, not anymore. I've gotten used to it. It's just... different, that's all. And not a bad different. It like... you know when you meet someone so beautiful and then you actually talk to them and 5 minutes later they're as dull as a brick? Then there's other people, when you meet them you think, 'Not bad, they're ok.' And then you get to know them and... and their face just sort of becomes them. Like their personality is written all over it. And they turn into something so... beautiful."

"Beautiful?" He snorted, eyes full of amusement. "Him? Are you serious?"

"Have you seen his eyes?" I shook my head quickly. "Never mind. It's not just beautiful, either. He's introverted, like me, which I like. And he's a mystery. There's so much I still don't know about him, though what I do know makes sense now..." I was quiet for a moment, wondering if I should tell him what I had seen, but I decided against it.

He must've seen the cloud come over me, because he nudged me and raised his eyebrows. "What is it? What did you find out?"

"Sorry, can't say. I promised him I wouldn't tell." Actually, I didn't make any promises, but he wanted it to stay a secret so I had be quiet for now. "Sufficed to say, he's had a rough life and now he's kind of, I don't know, broken maybe? He needs someone."

"I suppose so..." He shrugged and glanced at me. "Just... be careful when trying to fix a broken person, cuz you might end up cutting yourself on their shattered pieces."

I smiled a little. "Wow, when did you get so deep?"

"When did you decide to fall in love with a high-school outcast?" he asked back, smiling that infuriating smile.

"I'm not in love with him!" I mostly believed it, even though the mention of it tied my stomach up in knots.

"Oh?"

I groaned in frustration. "I'm not! Why does everyone think that?"

Phoebus held up a hand and started to count. "Well, you spend every day with him, you beat up anyone who goes near him, you desperately want to improve his life, you adore his eyes-"

"I do not adore his eyes!"

He just looked at me and resumed his list. "-you adore his eyes, you play music together, and you've mysteriously got over your previous heart-break during your time with him; a heart-break which, by your own admission, affected you badly right up to the time you met him. I'm no love-expert, but from what I've heard, a girl usually only gets over a previous love so quickly when a new one comes along."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" I insisted. "All of that can be explained a different way, like maybe I'm a good person who wants to make someone's life better!"

"Or maybe you _are_ in love with him but don't want to admit it to yourself."

"Is this what you do now? You can't have me so you try to play matchmaker? Do I really look that desperate?"

"Of course not. You're just ignoring your feelings, that's all."

"Whatever." I checked my watch. "Bell's going to go soon. I should probably go."

"You should probably go find Quasimodo." He held up his hands at my look of annoyance. "No, just listen. You gave me advice, now I'm giving you some. Whatever feelings you have for him, it doesn't matter. You should go find him and say everything you want to say before he decides he really doesn't need you anymore."

"Ok... I will. Thanks." I smiled and chucked the ball at him. "It was good talking to you. Sorry about... you know."

He shrugged. "I'll try to take your advice if you take mine."

I nodded and headed back towards the school, feeling refreshed and light. I had gotten everything off my chest and straightened stuff out between us, and though there had been the shock of Phoebus' declaration and his insistence that I had feelings for Quasi, neither of us were worse for was just one more thing that I needed to.

Now it was time to find my friend.

* * *

I knew there was no point in trying to find Quasi before the bell rang, so I did the next best thing- I waited for him. I don't think I had realized the lengths he went to to avoid people unless absolutely necessary, because it was a long time before he actually went to his locker. I had to wait until there was almost no people in the halls and most of the classes had started by the time he appeared.

"Bit late, aren't you?" I remarked when I saw he wasn't going to say anything. Closing my locker door, I leaned against the lockers and watched him as he dialed his combination. "Look, can we talk?"

"You'll be late for class." he answered quietly, not meeting my eye.

"Doesn't matter, it's only History. I've done Ancient Greece twice already, so I don't really need to go to class."

"I'll miss English-"

"You're only doing creative writing. I can help you with that if you get behind." I nudged him lightly. "This is more important. Way more important."

"I don't want to talk about-"

I held up a hand. "Shut up and listen to me. I can't pretend to know how you feel, cuz I don't. But I have a good imagination, and I can imagine how difficult this is for you and how... scared you must be. Frankly, I'm scared too, but I know how serious this is and I really do want to help you, if you'll let me."

He stopped rummaging in his locker and and looked down, his voice slightly strangled. "I don't want... I don't need... your help. I'm fine. Just leave it, please."

"What, so I'm supposed to ignore the fact that my friend is being..." I looked around and lowered my voice to a whisper, aware that he didn't want it being spread around. "...being abused at home? Because believe it or not, you _are_ my friend. I'm not in any way pretending and I never was. Almost as soon as I saw you I could see that you're lonely and sad and I want to change that, if only you'll let me."

"I'm n-n-not lonely, I-I'm q-q-quite happy alone. No-one can d-do anything anyway, so it d-doesn't matter."

"Oh, Quasi," I hesitantly touched the sleeve of his jacket, trying not to remember what was underneath it, and tried to catch his eye. "We build walls around our hearts and lock all our doors and then wonder why no-one can save us. You don't give anyone a chance."

"I have given people chances and each... time..." He shook his head, sounding suspiciously like he was about to cry. "Each time... it ended badly. I can't... I-I-I c-can't..."

"You can't risk it again, so you pretend that you're fine and you don't need anyone when in reality, you really do. But you don't protect your heart by acting like you don't have one."

"How... would you know?"

I closed his locker for him and turned his shoulders so that he was facing me, bending down a little so I could look at him properly. "Because I look at you, and I can see it in your face. You think you hide it, but I see you. I see the hurt, the... the dark circles under your eyes from when you cry yourself to sleep, and the silent plea in your eyes, dancing on your lips, too afraid to be voiced, too afraid to be heard because you're too afraid to be hurt." I rested both arms on his shoulders, our faces only a few inches apart so that I could see the tears in his eyes and the quivering of his bottom lip; he tried to look away, ashamed of crying in front of me, but I followed his gaze and spoke softly, not caring how we would look if someone walked past. "And I just want to take you and wrap you up in my arms, hold you, console you, tell you things that you'll believe, but you don't seem to believe anything anymore, because you've been lied to and tricked far too many times. I know you're broken inside, I can see it in your face and in your manner and in the way you walk, and someone told me recently to be careful when trying to help broken people, but I don't care if I cut myself on your 'shattered pieces' because I care about you and nothing would make me happier than to see you happy too." Now the tears were welling up in my own eyes. "So, don't push me away anymore. _Please_."

"I-I-I won't, I'm s-sorry-"

I smiled and pulled him to me, and I hugged him as hard as I could, until the pent-up stress inside him had been relaxed and he slowly put his arms around me too. "It's ok," I whispered, sniffing a little. "It's ok. You can cry, if you want. Don't be ashamed."

His shoulders began to shake, so I held him tighter, letting him cry it out. I almost started too, but I held it back, because someone needed to be strong and god knows he had been strong for far too long. Not a sound did he make, his head buried in my shoulder and his tears wetting the fabric of my black cardigan. I didn't care about the cardigan, I didn't care about people walking by and finding us in this strange, perhaps compromising position, depending on how they looked at it. None of it mattered when my friend was unburdening himself on me.

Eventually he stopped, and I listened to the sound of his breathing as he calmed himself down. "I'm sorry," were his first words. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that-"

"It's ok, it's fine, it's good." I rubbed his back and smiled a little. "You don't have to apologise. It's completely alright."

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," I whispered back. And that was it.

I held him tight until the tears welling up disappeared. Until I could pull away and look him in the eyes and pretend that everything actually was ok. It wasn't, but we could pretend.

For now.

* * *

**_Yowsers, long chapter is long. _**

**_So, what did you think? I wasn't sure about the Phoebus and Mich thing, but I had some break-up quotes I wanted to use and someone had to reveal a bit about Esme's life. And the Kish fluff took forever to write. Hope I did it right. Tell me in that box down there. Please._**


	17. Only Dreamers

_**Hi guys, sorry for the long wait. I've been out a lot in the holidays and there wasn't much time for writing. Thanks to Leslie the Sorceress for reviewing :)**_

_**Reviews really help, people. I know there are some people reading this, and I would really appreciate it if some of you would take a moment and write a few lines to tell me what you thought.**_

_**So last time, there was angst, fluff, and confrontations. Now they'll talk a bit about home life and the girls feature for a bit.**_

_**Read on!**_

* * *

"So tell me everything," I said, locking the door behind us and pulling out a chair. It was Tuesday morning, and after the events of the previous day I felt that it was finally ok to start asking questions, although I wasn't sure what kind of answers I'd get. Despite our new understanding, Quasi was still a naturally reserved person who wasn't used to baring himself to people, even if 'people' meant just me.

I dumped my bag on the table and watched as he took a seat and opened up his lunch, eyes averted, probably trying to decide how much to tell me, and for a moment I was annoyed. Didn't he know by now that he could trust me? Didn't he know that I only had his best interests at heart? Didn't he- I stopped, feeling foolish. Of course he would still be wary. He had to be. And I had to be patient and wait for him to become comfortable with talking to me.

My request floated in the air between us with the dust-motes and bits of sunlight that filtered through the ratty old blinds in the window, testing boundaries. 'Everything' was an awfully big thing to ask for, and pretty intrusive. It made sense that he would take a while to answer. While I waited for him to gather his thoughts together, I examined him- squashed features, wild red hair, hunch and all- and i decided that whatever happened, whatever fate or destiny or the future had in store for p , I would be there. I would protect this vulnerable, delicate person with everything I had, and I wouldn't let anyone stop me. If something had to be done, then I would do it.

Quasi laid his lunch out on the table and looked at it, still contemplating what I had said. At length, he sighed, laced his large fingers together and raised his emerald eyes to meet my brown ones, temporarily taking my breath away. It took me a moment before I realised that he had spoken.

"Huh?" I asked, feeling stupid.

"What d-do you mean by everything?" he repeated.

"I mean everything- when, why, how long, how have you hidden it all this time?" I paused. "And most importantly,,why didn't you tell anyone? Why can't I tell anyone?"

He sighed again and started nervously picking at his food. "I c-can't remember exactly when it started, b-but it was a long time ago. He was always aggressive, f-from as long as I can remember. And w-when he s-started drinking, he got v-violent. Its always been that way, even w-when-" he swallowed reflexively, "even when she was alive. I d-don't know."

He stopped and put a piece of bread in his mouth, and I took the opportunity to move to the seat next to him. If nothing else I could be there for emotional support.

"He's a policeman," he continued shakily, "s-so he knows w-what will happen if s-someone finds out. But he hides it, and I have t-to t-too or I'll get it w-worse next t-time. I-i'm sorry that I lied, but I had to, you see?"

I put a hand on his shoulder. "Of course I do. I was rude and stupid and never even considered what could be happening, and I'm sorry. Of course you had to lie. But why-"

"B-but why didn't I t-try to get help? Because it wouldn't have worked." He took another bite and looked away.

I frowned and waited until he had finished chewing before asking what he meant. "Surely he'd be taken for questioning or something and then you'd show your bruises and-"

"And he would say it was c-clumsiness and d-deny everything and b-beat me black and blue w-when we got home. It's happened before. Someone at s-school noticed the b-bruises and filed a c-complaint. He c-convinced them it w-was otherwise and b-beat me for b-being c-careless. That's why we k-kept moving. People noticed."

"So it wasn't bullies."

"No. Well, t-there were bullies, b-but that's not w-why we moved. "

I shook my head, a dull feeling settling in my chest. "I didn't think someone like him would care if you were being bullied at school. You know, when I dropped off your homework for you after that disaster of a costume ball, I mentioned it to him and he told me that it served you right for going out against his orders. Like, he didn't even care. I was so mad, you don't even know. I felt like slapping him. I didn't, obviously, but I could've. I still could. In fact," I grinned as I visualized it, "I could march right up to him and slap him silly, then go all Karate Kid on him and knock him flying. I wonder how he'd like to be beat up a bit."

Quasi shook his head, taking me seriously as usual. "Don't. J-just don't do anything. Pretend y-you haven't s-seen anything and f-forget it, OK?"

I sighed and absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder. "You know I can't do that, Kaz. Its not something I'm likely to forget for a long time. But I won't tell if you don't want me to. Just know that I'm here if you need it."

"I know." He glanced at me and nodded. "Thank you."

I smiled and moved back to my own seat, and we continued in silence.

* * *

We had just finished eating when there was a knock at the door, and I opened it to see the girls. Bed was jumping up and down excitedly, and I grinned when I saw what was in her hand. "Is that-?"

"Yup!" She held up the pack of cards and shook it around. "Do you have time?"

I grinned and opened the door wider for them to come in. "Hey, Kaz, the girls are here with Cards Against Humanity. Ever played before?" He shook his head. "Well, we're gonna play it. Do you want to play or watch?"

He glanced at the girls shyly and shrugged. "I think I'll w-watch."

Moments later, all of us were squished in together around the table and Dez, who had quickly been elected Card Czar, was dealing out the cards. We had only ever played once before, at a sleepover about a year ago when Bex bought about three extension packs. We were up half the night throwing out all the offensive cards and combining the rest into one pack after playing a round with our parents and they threatened to confiscate them for their less-than-clean humour. So we fixed the game, only for them to go missing for months until just recently when Bex found them and promised to bring them to school. Now the girl were here and so was Quasi, and I was looking forward to a chance for us all to hang out and enjoy something together without judgment.

I organized my cards so Quasi, who was sitting almost behind me, could see them too, as Dez read the rules again and drew a black card. "My country, tis thee, sweet land of..."

We all looked at our cards and already I could hear the giggles starting as Em and Bex chose their answers. I flipped through my cards, unable to hold in a snort at some of them, and selected my answer card.

When everyone had handed in their white card, Dez flipped them over and read them out with the black card, one by one. " My country, tis thee, sweet land of... obesity." We all nodded. It was true. "My country, tis thee, sweet land of... unfathomable stupidity." That was mine. It got a few titters. " My country, tis thee, sweet land of... menstral rage." Bex and I started laughing at that one, and Em choked on her sandwich and had to be beaten on the back for a minute before we could continue. The last one was: " My country, tis thee, sweet land of... aggressive Legolas hair flips."

I high-fived Bex for that one. "Yes! Nerdy cards for-the-win!"

We played a few more rounds, getting progressively louder and wilder as the card combinations got more hilarious.

"In his new self-produced album, Kanye West raps to the sound of... Kanye West."

"With enough time and pressure, an ether-soaked rag will turn into some god-damned peace and quiet."

"I got 99 problems, but becoming a blueberry ain't one of them."

"If God didn't want us to enjoy Loki, the trickster god, he wouldn't have given us that ass."

"And the academy award for tasteful side boob goes to Ghandi."

"Why do I hurt all over? Inappropriate yodeling."

"Lifetime presents: Teaching a robot to love; the story of: Stephen Hawking."

After finding a few cards that we missed last time, the combinations got sillier and funnier and more idiotic until we all were all crying with laughter. Our combined sense of humor could honestly find anything funny at this point. A few time during the game I glanced at Quasi to see if he was enjoying himself and was pleasantly surprised to find him laughing along with the rest of us...

And I knew Phoebus was wrong- it was possible for him to look beautiful. I also knew that beauty was a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences, and role models (thank you Sherlock), but when his eyes sparkled like emeralds when he laughed and rare joy was reflected all over his strangely-shaped face- and I never would've admitted it, but it was a face that I was becoming increasingly fond of- was there really any word I could use other than beautiful?

It was the kind of beauty that you wanted to keep looking at, and I wanted to stay right there forever and keep him laughing, not let another unhappy thought ever enter his mind again, just so I could see those eyes shine. But, like 'everything', 'forever' was a big thing to ask, and not likely to happen. Eventually, after we had been sidetracked into telling really bad jokes about robots and vegetables and there was about 5 minutes left of lunch, Dez called the happy ending and played the Make A Haiku card.

"A madman who lives in a policebox and kidnaps women, Gay aliens, A time travel paradox," was the winner by the simple fact that it almost exactly described Doctor Who, and we started to pack up. The girls took their rubbish and cards and headed out, thanking Quasi for joining them and waving to him before they left. It looked like they liked him, which was good. It made things easier for me, for sure.

Before lunch was over, though, there was one more thing I wanted to do.

"Hey Kaz," I started as I scrunched up my rubbish and aimed for the bin, "I was just wondering- if you wanted to- before we go- if you would, um..."

"I-If I would what?"

"Sing for me?" He blinked at this unexpected request, and I smiled sheepishly. "Just sing a song before the bell rings? I don't know, its a silly request, you don't have to if you don't want to-"

"OK."

"What?"

He shrugged. "I'll sing if you w-want me to."

I smiled. "Good."

"What d-d you w-want me to sing?"

"What do you know? Another Styx song maybe?"

He thought for a moment, then nodded. "I know one."

I sat back in my chair and waited as he cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and began, softly, to sing.

"Is this the train to Desert Moon

Was all she said

But I knew I'd heard

that stranger's voice before..."

I knew this song! I smiled and closed my eyes, listening to the soft, smooth voice of my friend and wondering where it had been hiding all that time.

"I turned to look into her eyes

But she moved away

She was standing in the rain

Trying hard to speak my name-"

"They say first love never runs dry..." I joined in, adjusting my voice to harmonize with his, and he nodded and continued.

"The waiter poured our memories into tiny cup

We stumbled over words we longed to hear

We talked about the dreams we'd lost, or given up

When a whistle cut the night

And shook silence from our lives

As the last train rolled towards to the dune...

Those summer nights, when we were young

We bragged of things

We'd never done

We were dreamers

Only dreamers

And in our haste

To grow too soon

We left our innocence

On Desert Moon

We were dreamers

Only dreamers...

On Desert Moon..." we finished, and I found myself staring into his eyes as the song ended, marveling at the shades of green that shined inside them. I moved back self-consciously, realizing at the same time that I wasn't the only one. He had been staring as much into my eyes as I had into his. Was that normal? Were you supposed to have such a connection when doing a duet? I wanted to believe that it was because we were focusing on each others vocals, but I honestly wasn't sure. When did I start second-guessing myself so much?

"That was amazing," I said, ignoring my confusing thoughts and instead focusing on the performance that I had joined. "I have to say I'm in love with your voice."

He blushed- actually blushed!- and look down at his hands, which were fidgeting in his lap. "Th-thanks. You w-weren't bad yourself."

I tried not to smile too wide when I thanked him, but really I was thrilled with the praise. This was a new development in social interaction on Quasi's part, and he was hardly used to compliments himself yet. Giving compliments, however slight, was good progress. Not to mention flattering. I never actually thought I had a good voice, but I had to say, singing with another person wasn't too bad. "Its all your fault," I commented jokingly. "You sounded so good that I had to work hard to match it."

"We s-sing w-well together, d-don't we?" he answered, glancing up from his hands to meet my eyes. And suddenly I had a feeling that there was a meaning behind his words that hadn't been there before. And I felt extremely nervous about that.

Before my mind could start to speculate about the meaning behind his words or my own nervousness, the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch and breaking the silence between us. I jumped up and grabbed my bag, eager to leave and forget this awkwardness, and waited for him by the door. When he was out, I locked it behind us and crouched down to untie and retie my shoelaces, giving him a head start. For some reason I didn't want to walk back with him this time, so I told him to go on and tried to focus on my laces, which were suddenly very difficult to tie. I felt strange, like there was something I was supposed to remember but my brain didn't want to. My stomach and heart felt link one big knot and my fingers were fidgety, unable to tie the laces on the first go. It took me a few tries before I could stand up again, and by then, Quasi was gone.

Conflicted and confused, I hoisted my bag on my shoulder and headed to my next class, wondering what on earth was wrong with me.

* * *

_**Short chapter this time. I wanted to put what happens next into its own chapter, so this is a big as it gets for now. But the next chapter should be up soon (I know I say that a lot but it's true this time).**_

_**I feel like the story is becoming very cliche-y, what with the 'not knowing how i feel' thing. It's just that I want to take a long time for things to develop, cuz I hate the 'love at first sight' that most movies portray. I don't know. What do you think? How much longer do you think I can draw it out? **_

_**Review and tell me what think :)**_


	18. I Won't Give Up

_**Hey guys, hope I haven't been too long. I was away for the weekend and had no internet access. **_

_**Ok, so last chapter there were some serious conversations, card games and romantic singing. Now there's more sneaking around and we meet a new character.**_

_**Thanks to Leslie the Sorceress and Antikreativ for your reveiws. Keep 'em coming, readers.**_

_**Read on!**_

* * *

When I look into your eyes  
It's like watching the night sky  
Or a beautiful sunrise  
Well, there's so much they hold  
And just like them old stars  
I see that you've come so far  
To be right where you are  
How old is your soul?

Well, I won't give up on us  
Even if the skies get rough  
I'm giving you all my love  
I'm still looking up

'I Won't Give Up'- Jason Mraz.

* * *

The rest of the week was pretty ordinary, with no other awkwardness or strange feelings, and practice went well every lunchtime. The girls joined us half the time to listen to my progress and probably to spy on us too. I didn't want to care about them joining our sessions but a tiny part of me was actually annoyed that they were there. And that is itself worried me. When the heck had Quasi become more important to me than them? There was something amiss in the way my mind worked, I was sure. But I couldn't pinpoint it, so I just left it and suffered in silence.

But on the weekend, something unexpected happened. Since my grandparents lived next door, they would often come over and tell us where they were going before they went out in case we ever needed them or wanted to come along. So when grandad came over and told us that he was going to see a friend in Boronia Heights, you can bet which one I thought of first. Having got the sneaking around thing well practiced now, I decided to pay a little visit.

On a whim, I grabbed my skateboard on my way out the door, and we left, me thinking out a plan all the way into town. We had some friends who lived in a housing estate on the way into Boronia, and it wasn't too far to Quasi's house from there. I could walk or skateboard there if I was game. Was I game? After twice walking around that neighborhood at night I was fairly certain that there could only be one answer to that. I didn't even question the fact that even though I saw him every day, I was willing to go to almost-extreme lengths to see him on the weekend as well, despite the fact I had never in my life been so dishonest with my family before. Things were changing, it seemed.

So I asked grandad to drop me off on the way, and he agreed to it. He knew the friends I were supposedly visiting, and since it wasn't out of the way he has nothing against it.

Dishonesty had never been so easy.

He dropped me off in front of their place and told me he'd be back in about half-an-hour, and I waved until he was out of sight. Then I ran out of the estate as fast I could and jumped on my skateboard once I hit the main footpath. I skated down the road, hair flying in the wind and legs already sore from the unexpected spurt of excersise; passed the shops, turned down the right block, counted the streets and almost collided with the signpost for Notre Dame Ct. Breathing heavily and wondering if I was going to have a heart attack, I dragged myself up the street and stopped in front of number 14, only to find something totally unexpected waiting for me- another car.

_Oh._

I scratched my head as I tried to catch my breath, swinging my skateboard back and forth and waiting for something to come to me.

_What now?_

Who was the visitor? What did they want? I couldn't imagine Quasi or his dad taking social calls. Was it still possible for me to sneak in? Was I game enough to try?

I smirked at this last question. Again, there was really only one answer to that.

I tiptoed forward- completely unnecessary given that the grass muffled my footsteps anyway- and when I was sure there was no one around to see me, I jumped the fence and quickly made my way around the side. I felt very exposed in the daylight, but the street was empty and most of the windows covered, so it seemed I was safe for now.

Quasi's window was closed, and when I peered through the smudged, dirty glass, I saw him sitting on the bed, paper and pencil in hand, drawing. I watched him for a moment, absorbed in his activity, extremely focused, before realizing I didn't have very long and tapped on the window. He jumped and looked over, eyes wide, and I smiled and waved as he reached over and pushed the window up.

"Hi there!" I greeted him brightly, leaning on the windowsill and peering inside. "How are you this afternoon?"

"I'm f-fine," he replied, nervously peering over his shoulder at the closed door. I could hear muffled voices coming from behind it, but no-one seemed to have heard anything from this end yet. "W-what are you d-doing here?"

"Well it's good to see you too." I shrugged and held up my skateboard. "I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by. Don't worry, I won't be long, and I'll be quiet. Can I come in?"

He looked flustered for a moment, but then he nodded and shifted over. I hoisted myself up and fell inside, taking care not to roll off the bed or make too much noise, and sat up quickly and looked around. I was in a boy's room. I was in a boy's room! Now this was different. It certainly wasn't as cluttered as mine, or as colorful, and that was really saying something since my room was pretty neutral. This was just grey and a little bit of black here and there. No ornaments, no decoration except for a framed photo with cracked glass on the desk. Pretty boring. Still, it was a boy's room!

"So, what are you doing?" I asked, crossing my legs and making myself comfortable.

Quasi picked up the papers from the bed and folded them in half, trying to hide them. "I-I was just d-drawing, that's all," he muttered, about to stuff them under the bed. I stopped him just in time.

"Wait, can't I see?"

He passed them to me without resistance, embarrassed. "Th-they're not v-very good..."

I doubted his words, because I knew that he would always undervalue his work, but I said nothing. Instead I examined the drawings for myself and decided that my friend was ridiculously talented and way too modest- although the latter was probably his father's fault.

The drawings- more like amazing works of art- were done in black pencil and ranged from animals to trees to faces. The first few pages were wolves and elephants, copied from an animal book I had seen on the desk. The details were intricate, wrinkles and fur and shadows and eyes done meticulously. The next few were leaves and shrubs and trees as seen from the window. Dez liked to draw nature too, her favorite subjects being gum trees, but hers were nothing like this. Tiny veins on leaves, rough, stringy bark on trees, little gaps and stalks in the bushes outside; I traced these little things with my eyes and committed them to memory, wondering how one person could be so talented. And then I got to the portraits.

The first was a woman, unfamiliar and striking. Although only in pencil, I could tell that she was in her mid-twenties and had dark hair and eyes. She looked exotic and foreign, perhaps European or Middle-Eastern. Her hair was wild, her eyes had a far-away look in them, and her mouth turned up at the corners miscieviously. I didn't know her and already I liked her.

The next one surprised me, but on reflection I realized it shouldn't have. Esme had had an impact on Quasi's life, no matter how brief their fake friendship had been, so that I guess it made sense that she would feature in his artwork. Yes, it was her alright, detailed and life-like and beautiful down to the last line. She was smiling for once, but whether intentionally or not, he had captured the malicious glint in her eyes perfectly. Even in sketch she was cold, imposing, and calculating.

And the last one was... me. Me, bug-eyed, long-nosed and freckled, exactly in proportion and perfectly correct, but somehow softened and refined. It was me, but prettier. Almost... beautiful.

I had been silent until now, but this last picture moved me to say something.

"These... These are amazing. I can't believe..." I cleared my throat, amazed to find myself almost moved to tears by my portrait. This was totally unlike me, and I didn't know what to do about it. "I-Is that me?"

That was how to deal with unexpected emotions- ask obvious questions.

"Yes." Quasi answered timidly, searching my face. "D-do you like it?"

"Like it- it's beautiful! But why did you make it so... so... I don't know... Is it really me?"

"Yes."

"But it's beautiful!"

"Yes...?" He looked at me as if too ask: And your point is?

And suddenly I understood.

I had never blushed in my life, but if I had been able to I probably would've. As it was, the butterflies in my stomach were uncountable and my brain was spaghetti. I put down the drawings and tried to gather my scattered thoughts, at the same time trying not to appear too affected by what he had said.

"S-s-so, um, wh-who's here?" I managed to ask, cursing the stammer that only came out every so often, usually when i was angry or excited or, in this case, extremely nervous.

Quasi's eyes flicked over to the door for a second, where the muffled voices continued. "Th-that's Johanna. She's a d-distant relative a-and a... a social worker, I think she s-said. She comes over sometimes and t-tries to talk to us, b-but dad doesn't like her. She asks t-too many questions. But she g-gives us money, so he has to b-be civil."

"Gives you money?" I wrinkled my nose and pointed behind me. "Well he doesn't seem to be using for anything important- the house is a wreck! What does he do with it?"

Quasi shrugged sadly. "Drinks, mostly."

I immediately felt terrible. "Oh Quasi, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It's f-fine, I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it right." I pursed my lips, angry. "Doesn't Johanna see what a bad environment this is? She should be able to do something about it!"

"She tries. But d-dad makes sure it looks s-safe enough t-to not n-need reporting."

"I wish I could do something."

"You can't."

"I know."

But I didn't want to believe that. I wanted to believe that there was something I could do, something that would make everyone plainly see that not everything was right here. But I couldn't risk getting Quasi even more hurt than he already was. I had to be patient and think it through. I had to-

I caught sight of a clock on the wall.

Crap. I was going to be late.

I gave him an apologetic look. "I have to go."

He held up a hand. "Hold on. Wait for Johanna to leave f-first."

"And how long will that take?"

"She's getting ready to go. Listen."

I listened. Though I couldn't really hear any difference in the constant mumble of their conversation, I could hear the unmistakable jingle of keys being handled, which I supposed to mean that indeed she was preparing to leave.

I edged myself up onto the windowsill and grabbed my skateboard, taking care not to make any unnecessary noise. "I have someone waiting for me. She won't see me, I promise."

He nodded. "Goodbye."

"See you at school." I slipped out of the window, shook myself off, and made my way to the front of the house.

It turned out Johanna was doing the same thing. I only just managed to jump back before the door opened and a short, smartly-dressed blonde woman walked out, followed by Officer Frollo. Johanna stopped and turned halfway down the weed-strewn path to say something to Frollo, and I felt my breath catch in my throat as her eyes caught mine. This was it. I was going to be caught out by a social worker and a policeman and god knew what would be the consequences of that. Escorted home, telling my parents, worrying grandad sick when I wasn't where I was supposed to be...

But I wasn't. The woman looked at me, then went back to talking to Frollo. Then she pointed to the other side of the house and they headed over that way. I couldn't believe my luck.

I did not waste any time getting out of there and soon I was skating up the road towards my destination.

But I didn't make it there by myself. In no time at all, a car pulled up beside me and Johanna rolled the window down.

"Do you want a lift?" she called, raising her eyebrows and looking me up and down. I imagined I looked pretty terrible- the way back was all uphill and I was sweaty and aching. Now believe me when I say that while I might be reckless and stupid sometimes, I had been well taught not to accept anything from strangers. So I definitely hesitated to get in that car. But the woman was a social worker, and she had saved my butt a few minutes ago. And she had an aura of 'niceness' around her. Plus, it was hot outside and the air con was on. So I murmured a 'thanks' and got in.

"I'm Johanna du Moulin," she said immediately, pulling out onto the road.

"Michigan Greene," I muttered, looking out the window. I was still a little uncomfortable being in a car with a stranger and I feared the questions she was inevitably going to ask, so I suppose that was the reason for my unfriendliness.

"And where am I taking you?"

"Madison Heights."

She nodded and was silent for a little while. Not for long, though.

"So," she began conversationally, glancing at me. "That was some impressive sneaking back there. I didn't even hear you leave. I take it you've had some practice?"

"Some," I allowed. I wondered if I should tell her everything or if that would only end the way Quasi seemed to believe it would. Her voice was friendly, but the tone beneath was watchful, probing. She definitely wanted to know something.

"I also take it that you're not very welcome there, or else you would've used the door."

"Officer Frollo isn't a very welcoming person."

"You've got that right." Johanna sighed and shook her head. "I honestly don't know what I'm going t- um, never mind. Sufficed to say, he's a character. Always has been, but especially since she died..." She cleared her throat and rapidly changed the subject. "Anyway, I presume you were visiting Quasimodo?"

"You presume correctly."

"Let me guess- school friend? Sneaking out for frequent illegal visits? Pretty close, too, by the looks of things."

"Right on all accounts."

"I'm glad."

I blinked and looked over at her. "Huh?"

She was smiling. "I've known the boy all his life and I have never known him to have a close relationship with anyone besides his mother, and she's been gone for quite some time. You are probably the first person to care even a little bit about him, including his father. Given his outward qualities and introverted-ness, I commend you for your effort."

Well, she put that in the nicest way possible. "How do you know we have a close relationship? How do you know if its an effort?"

"You sneak out to see him pretty often- that in itself proves that you care about him and put yourself out for him."

"Maybe I'm not putting myself out," I persisted. "Maybe I'm a rebel who likes to sneak out and... and... and, I don't know, visit people? Maybe I sneak out for the fun of it? How do you know?"

"Call it an educated guess, dear. You hardly look rebellious. I can tell that both of you are very alike- introverted, protective, unlikely to trust very easily. Friendship will probably be good for him. God knows, he needs a bit of positivity in his life."

"Oh, he so does," I agreed soberly, only realizing too late that this comment would spark her interest.

Johanna paused for a moment, watching the road, and then: "What do you know about the Frollos?" she asked bluntly, watching me as closely as she could while driving.

I mentally slapped myself for letting such a little thing slip and tried to think of a convincing answer. I couldn't tell her what I knew, could I? How did I know what she would do with the information? "Um, not a lot. Quasi doesn't talk much."

"But somehow you know that he badly needs a friend and that his home life isn't the greatest. And you're awfully protective of him for someone doesn't know a lot about him."

I said nothing.

Johanna slowed as she approached the entry to Madison Heights and pulled onto the curb, then reached inside her handbag next to her feet and pulled out a business card. "Before you leave, I just want to say something. I am very close to the family, both personally and professionally. I suspect something not quite right going on but my questions go unanswered. I also suspect you know more than your are letting on. I only want the best for the boy, and I think you may be able to help. Please know that you can trust me with anything to you chose to tell me. Take my card and please email me when you can."

I took the card and tucked it into my pocket, then grabbed my skateboard and slid out of the car. "I'll do that. Thanks for the ride. And also, letting me get away."

Johanna nodded and smiled tightly. "I wouldn't have let you get caught, that's for sure. Talk to you later."

I waved as she drove away, and then I ran.

* * *

It turned out I didn't have to rush. Grandad had dropped by the heath food shop and got sidetracked, so by the time he pulled up I had already been waiting for ten minutes. He suspected nothing, and we spent the car ride home in relative silence.

When I got home I opened my computer and brought up my email. I don't think I knew whether I was actually going to send anything, but I started writing just the same. If anything, it was a way to organize my thoughts.

"Dear Ms du Moulin;

I am gong to tell you something that may or may not shock you. Please, don't react, don't do anything, and please read to the end..."

* * *

_**Another shortish one this time, sorry. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer. Some pretty interesting things are gonna happen soon. You could say meeting Johanna du Moulin is the beginning of the end.**_

_**Oh, by the way, do any of the Hugo-fans somewhere out there recognize the woman's name? No? Not even slightly familiar? Perhaps this will clear it up: Jehan Frollo du Moulin. Claude's little idiot of a brother. Yeah, so I decided to put him in here. As a her.**_

_**I didn't know I was going to do this until just recently, but I think I've reversed the characters a bit. Claude is now the aggressive drinker and Jehan/Johanna is the concerned, serious one. Don't know how that happened. Hope it works out.**_

_**Anyway, reviews are very welcome as usual. Please tell me what you thought :)**_


	19. Que Sera

_**So hopefully I didn't take too long with this chapter. Not much to say, thanks to Antikreativ and AmaryllisBloom for your feedback.**_

* * *

At the end of the day  
Some you win, some you don't  
So I'm glad that I'm here  
With some friends that I know  
Always there with a smile  
Saying you're not alone  
Singing la la la la  
Que sera

Yesterday is history  
You gotta get through it  
Tomorrow is a mystery  
So let's just do it

And even when the rain falls  
You and I will stand tall  
No matter what you go through  
I'll never leave you

So you gotta be strong  
Live by the words of the song  
Together is where we belong  
Never stop dreaming  
Keep holding on.

'Que Sera'- Justice Crew.

* * *

I ended up sending the email.

It contained everything I had been told or found out about what happened at 14 Notre-Dame Court, and Quasi's plea for me not to tell anyone for fear it would get worse. I then begged her not to report it yet and asked for her help to think up an alternative.

Now I had an anxious wait. Would she freak out and call the police as soon as she read the first line? Or would she watch and wait like me? Had I done the right thing in telling a stranger? Would I regret it?

And the anxiety continued into week two when I found out Quasi was away again. By now I was sure that he only stayed home to nurse his wounds. Bruises were suspicious. If that was the case, his monster of a father had struck again.

I hated that man.

On Tuesday afternoon, after another no-show day and a lonely wait after school, I asked dad to drive me over. I had the usual homework delivery, but I just wanted to see what the damage was this time.

"Don't freak out when you see me go around the side; the door is jammed so I usually knock on the window," I told him as I got out. He nodded, and I headed over to the house.

I picked my way over the lumpy ground and ducked around spider webs, making my way to the window and peering in. I saw him right away, sitting slumped on the bed and gloomily strumming his guitar with no particular tune.

"Quasi?" I whispered, tapping on the cracked-open window. He turned from his place on the bed and my heart skipped a beat. No, not because of any sudden beauty, but because of the large purple bruise that surrounded his good eye.

"Hello, Mich," he greeted me, brightening up a little at the sound of my voice. Usually that would make me smile, but not this time.

I pursed my lips and pointed to his eye, trying not to grit my teeth. "That looks nasty."

"What, th-this?" He raised a hand to his face and covered his eye uneasily. "It's not as p-painful as it looks."

I raised an eyebrow unbelievingly. "Really?"

"OK, it is pretty painful," he admitted, slumping down again.

"I'm so gonna kill that man."

He sighed. "Mich..."

"OK, fine, whatever. Homework for you." I pushed it through the window where it landed on the bed and turned to go.

"Mich, d-don't be upset!" His voice was soft and pleading, begging me to come back. Poor thing, he's so lonely...

I sighed and turned around. "I'm sorry. I just don't like seeing you like this. It's not fair. I want to do something about it. I want-"

Footsteps outside the door and a voice calling his name. I gasped and ducked as the door opened and Frollo walked in. _I hope he didn't see me, god I hope he didn't see me..._

"Get dressed," I heard him growl. He was sober, thank god, so hopefully there would be no violence. Yet. "Wear something black. We're going out again." A pause, and then, "You better get her this time."

Quasi stammered out a response, and the door closed. I popped up, eyes wide, swiftly making the connections. "Holy cow."

He avoided my eyes. "I-I'm sorry. Y-you should go."

My jaw dropped. "But he's gonna... But you're gonna... But why?"

He shrugged helplessly. "Its c-complicated."

"You're not really going to do this, are you?'?

"I have to."

Of course he did. That asshat of a father would beat him black and blue if he didn't.

"I d-don't want to," he continued, reaching down and pulling out a black hoodie from under the bed, "But I have to. S-so anything you c-can do, please do."

What the hell could I do? "But I don't understand. Why is he doing this?"

He shrugged again, frustrated. "She's Asian."

"And he's yellow-eye." My eyes widened again. "He's really so prejudiced that he'd go that far?"

Silence as he pulled the hoodie over his head and went searching for something, probably black pants or a beanie. He wouldn't want to be recognized again.

"But what is he going to do with her?" Even as I asked the question I was running over the possible answers in my mind. And there weren't a lot. Let's face it, there are only so many things you can do to someone you kidnap, and none of them are very nice. I definitely had to do something.

Just then I remembered that dad was waiting for me in the car. How long had I spent at the window? I turned away. "I have to go, dad's waiting for me."

"Mich." I looked back to see him staring at me with pleading eyes. "Please, if you c-can do anything... I don't want to do this."

"I really wish I could, but..." I shook my head. I had to be positive. "I can try." With that I left, sprinting back to the car before dad could beep the horn.

"Sorry, I got caught up talking," I told dad as he put the car in gear. He nodded but said nothing, instead focusing on getting us out of Boronia Heights and onto the main road. I think he was too distracted by problems at work to worry too much about it anyway. I was grateful for his silence, for it meant that I could try to think of a plan.

My first idea was simple: wait till we got home and call the police. But then there was Frollo to think about. To his knowledge, Quasi was the only one who knew what they were going to do. So if the police went there because of a tip-off, wouldn't the logical conclusion be that Quasi was the one doing the tipping off? And that would just result in more pain for Quasi and more guilt for me. So no tip-offs.

What, then? I couldn't tell dad, he would just call the police. Maybe I could tell Esme herself? Warn her to stay in a group or out of the car park? That could possibly work- if she listened. Hopefully her previous scare would lend her some common sense to look past her hatred of me and listen for once. It was a stretch, but it was the only thing I could think of.

"Hey dad, could we stop by the Tavern for bit before we go home?" I asked hesitantly. "I... um... have to give a message to someone. Who works there. A friend. It's for school." I had to stop myself from giving a detailed description of the situation and instead hoped that I sounded convincing enough.

Dad sighed but nodded, looking tired. "Be quick."

"I will." I tried not to dance in my seat as we took the exit towards the Tavern and pulled into the carpark. He stopped in front of the door and I leaped out. "Back in a minute."

It was awfully crowded for a Tuesday night. I weaved my way through the many people looking for tables and getting drinks, wondering if she would even be out here. I couldn't see anyone who looked remotely like her. Maybe she wouldn't even come out here. Shows weren't put on in the public eating area. There were function rooms for that. And she was probably in a back room getting ready. I didn't have time for this, but I couldn't leave without at least trying to help.

I was standing on my toes, trying to see above everyone's heads and starting to panic, when the guy ran into me. I lost balance and tumbled into a few people at the bar, thankfully not spilling any drinks; after apologizing profusely and straightening myself up, I glared at the waiter, ready to rip into him for not watching where he was going - don't judge me, I was under a lot of stress at the time- before realizing that he was of the ground trying to collect all the cutlery he had spilled off his tray. So, begrudgingly, I crouched down to help.

He was pretty good-looking, this boy. A bit nervous, a bit nerdy, but cute. He stammered out an apology and told me I didn't need to help, but I helped anyway, wondering if I could use him to save Esme. I was desperate enough at this time to consider seeking help from strangers.

"Do you know Esme Azarola?" I asked abruptly, placing the last fork on his tray.

He stopped to think, unaware that I was extremely pressed for time. "Esme Az-"

"Azarola. Works here. Dancer. Very pretty, about 16, big hair, European. Nearly got abducted a few months ago. Know her?"

"Yes." The boy smiled, showing perfect teeth. "I saved her. She hasn't been around for a while, but I think she'll be here tonight. Why?"

I immediately made my decision. "OK, I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully..."

* * *

I hoped the danger was averted that night. I worried all night about Quasi and the boy and Esme and Frollo. What if the boy couldn't help after all? What if he got hurt? I didn't even know his name. I had put a complete stranger in possible danger. If anything happened to him I would feel so bad...

And then what if Frollo succeeded in abducting Esme? What would he do to her? Would it be my fault for not trying to help more than I did? Where would Quasi be in the picture? What if they were arrested? What would I do without Quasi to help me pass lunchtime? Never mind about that- what would happen to him?

I didn't sleep well that night. My life had become frightening and full of secrets and I didn't know how to cope with it. How much longer could I keep this up? It was hard to say.

I was pretty jittery at school the next morning. The girls and I talked about trivial stuff like fandoms and shopping and future holiday activities, but inside I was impatiently waiting to see Quasi again and learn the outcome of the night before.

I kind of missed the days when the trivial stuff was all I cared about. How things had changed...

But thankfully I didn't have to wait too long. Not only was art the first subject of the day, but Quasimodo was actually there. We were right into our painting unit now and we were starting our 'practice' canvases, which were basically self-portraits while we tried to find a style that we would use in our final works. I just had to make sure my easel was next to his- not hard to do, since everyone was still mostly avoiding him. The bullying thing was working out really well apart from a few little issues, but people were still pretty cold when it came to the outcasts of the school. Which now seemed to include me, 'the weird girl who hung around the ugly dude'. No, seriously, that was my nickname now. Thank goodness it hadn't spread to the girls yet. They were still viewed pretty much the same- not important enough to notice. Lucky them.

But anyway, I set up my easel close to Quasi's and got into painting. He must have been waiting for me to speak, for he looked up expectantly as soon as I leaned towards him.

"So what happened last night?" I whispered, noticing that his bruise had gone down and his hand was bandaged.

"We d-didn't get her," he whispered back, mixing his paints slowly. "Th-there was a boy with her and he d-defended her w-with a knife."

"Wow, go kid!" I tried not to seem too pleased, instead looking at his injured hand. "Is that how you got that?"

"Yes. It's not too bad, th-though. It just stings." He paused and looked over at me. "W-was that you? Did you t-tell him about it?"

I bit my lip. "Yeah. I was going to tell Esme, but I couldn't find her. So I told the first person I saw what was going to happen and asked him to keep an eye on her. I didn't know if he would, but he carried out his responsibilities quite well. Sorry about the hand."

"It's fine." He sighed. "Thank you, for helping. I really didn't want to do it."

"I didn't want you to do it, either. I'm glad it worked out."

He nodded and started to paint, and I glanced down at my sketches, wondering where to start.

* * *

There was an email waiting for me when I got home.

I had known it was there all day, but I had wanted to open it alone, which I hadn't been. We had had a very good music lesson that lunchtime, and I hadn't been able to open my computer. So now I was impatient to read it, but anxious too.

There was no point in delaying further. I opened up the browser and clicked on the email, twiddling my thumbs nervously. Then I started to read.

"Dear Michigan;

I was pleased to receive your prompt email, and I have given much thought to my reply. Since you already know much about the current situation, I see no point in concealing further information from you.

That fact is that nothing you have told me is a surprise. I have known about Claude's abuse of Quasimodo for a while now. The reason that nothing has been done is that there has never been any proof.

On at least 3 separate occasions, Claude Frollo has been taken in for questioning because of a complaint or accusation made by a concerned party, only for an investigation to be done that turns up... nothing. No proof, and neither would admit anything. Any injuries were explained away as clumsiness. Quasimodo showed some classic signs of abuse, but with no proof to back them up they were dismissed as shyness and reservation because of his looks and bullying at school. Claude's drinking was never observed as a great enough problem to take the boy off him and he was let off with light warnings only.

This has been going on for a long time and even after repeated visits I have nothing solid to back up any claim I may make. I am now looked upon as somewhat of a nuisance.

I understand the boy's fears in regard to your telling about the incident, but an eyewitness account could be just what we need to be believed. I ask that you consider testifying against Claude if it comes to that in the future. You don't need to make a decision now, but please think about it.

I thank you again for your email and I looked forward to your reply.

Regards,

Johanna du Moulin

I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes, letting the I formation sink in. I didn't quite know how to react to what I had just read, but I did know one thing: testifying was out of the question. I mean, of course I wanted to help Quasi, but what if I didn't work out? What if I was dismissed as a liar or a nuisance, like Johanna? For all they knew, she could've been coaching me what to say.

Proof, on the other hand... Whoever did the investigating the last 3 times may not have seen anything incriminating, but then they weren't a determined teenage girl used to sneaking around and ready to fight for her friend.

Proof? Hell yeah, I could get that...

* * *

_**I feel like I'm getting Mich to do all the work and making her into a hero or something. That wasn't what I was aiming for when I started, but the story kind of gets away from me sometimes. Oh well. It's fiction, it doesn't have to be realistic. Tel me what you think!**_

_**Also, tell me whether you think I should make another chapter from Pierre's POV. And also, what I should do with him in the future. **_

_**Leave a review, as usual. I love to hear your opinions.**_


	20. Ugly Truths

_**This is a pretty quick update- only took me two nights to write. Basically I wanted to answer whatever questions were raised by the last chapter in the best way I could. So here, Mich goes looking for answers and finds more than she thought.**_

_**Thanks to Antikreativ, Tineyboppa, and AmaryllisBloom for your encouraging and thoughtful reviews.**_

_**No song for this chapter because my collection is on my computer which is getting fixed. I'm open to suggestions, though.**_

* * *

The news of Esme's second attempted abduction spread around the school like a wildfire in those few days before the weekend. Once again she was the center of attention, surrounded by sympathizers and gossipers alike every lunchtime as she told of her harrowing escape from the clutches of the evil men- seriously, I had heard it described like that. It was true, though, and that was the worst part. Esme had been through an ordeal, to say the least, and people were lapping it up like entertainment.

It was said that police had no idea who to suspect. Neither Esme nor the courageous boy who had been with her had seen any identifying features on the would-be kidnappers, for they had been well-covered. That, I was grateful for- at least Quasi was safe for now. The trail was cold. No one had seen anything, no one knew anything, security camera footage wasn't very helpful, and the police had no idea what to do.

If they only knew that the guilty one was one of their own...

As for me, the more I thought about it, the more confused I was. Why was Frollo so obsessed with Esme? Was there a particular reason? I mean, sure, he was yellow-eye and she was Asian, so obviously he wouldn't like her, but she wasn't the only Asian person in the world. So what was it about her that made him try to do unspeakable things? And, an even better question, how did he even know her? There was obviously a lot more going on than I realized, and I wanted to find out what.

So, for the first time since I had stood up to her the day everything had changed, I decided to talk to Esme.

I didn't want to go right up to her while she was surrounded by people, so I waited until the end of lunch, when I knew she would be in the toilets, primping. What I wasn't expecting to see was her, the brave, beautiful Esme Azarola, bent over the sink and sobbing her heart out.

Not in all the breakups I had seen her go through nor in the toppling of her so-called reign or terror had I ever seen 'the fox' this vulnerable and... broken. In the 11 years I had known her, I had never seen her shed a single tear. And yet here she was, shoulders shaking and tears making black tracks down her cheeks. It was an equally unnerving and heartbreaking sight.

And I realized that I had to do something about it.

I approached her, my footfalls too quiet to hear even in the echoing bathroom, and laid a hesitating hand on her back, holding my breath as I waited for her to spin around and shove me away. It didn't happen. She continued to cry as I rubbed her back awkwardly, wondering at the strangeness of the situation. A few months ago I would never have seen myself standing in a bathroom comforting a crying Esme. Heck, yesterday it wouldn't have even crossed my mind. I was supposed to hate this girl, this bully who had ruined so many lives and was feared by so many people, not sympathize with her. But so many things had happened since then that nothing was black and white anymore. And here I was.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, continuing to rub her back as her sobs began to get softer. "I'm so sorry for what happened."

I'm not sure how long I stood there, trying to offer some kind of comfort to the person I used to hate so intensely, but eventually she stopped crying altogether and gave one shuddering sigh, still bent over and gripping the sides of the sink as if she was going to collapse at any moment. I stopped rubbing and stepped away, unsure of what to do now, and shoved my hands in my pockets for lack of anything better to do with them.

"A-are you OK now?" I asked timidly as she stood there with her hair in her face and just breathed for a moment.

She nodded and straightened up, pulling her hair out of her face, and grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser. Running them under the water, she began to dab at her face, trying to wash off the sticky black marks that were the remains of her tears. "I'm fine, I just needed a moment. This whole kidnapping thing has been kinda intense, you know?"

I nodded. "I know."

At the sound of my voice she stiffened and slowly turned her head to look at me, as if she only just realized that I was there. Her eyes, though still watery and red, glared at me in shock and anger. "You."

Her voice was low with fury and mixed with horror. I blinked, wondering who she thought I was at first. "Hi..." I gave a sheepish wave, hoping she wasn't going to attack me.

To my surprise and eternal relief, she just sighed and turned away. "Figures."

"What?"

"That you of all people would be the one to see me like this. Go on then."

"What?" I repeated stupidly.

She sniffed and wiped away the last of the mascara tracks. "Go and tell everyone that you found me crying and that I'm a wimp and a failure as a person. I suppose its only fair."

"Why would I do that?"

"Cuz you hate me. Why else would you follow me here and watch me cry?"

"Well, I actually wanted to talk to you, but if you're not feeling well..."

She narrowed her damp, smudged eyes. "You're not here to get revenge?"

"No." I smiled. "Not today, anyway. For now, I just wanna talk."

"Oh. Ok." She reached into the handbag that was permanently attached to her side and pulled out a makeup case. "Go ahead."

"I'm just curious about these... ah... attempted abductions," I started, trying to word it in a way that wouldn't make her suspicious. "Why are they happening? Do have any idea who it is?"

"I don't know!" she snapped, carefully reapplying her makeup. "All I know is that both times two guys tried to grab me and shove me in a car. I don't know who, I don't know why. And now my parents have grounded me, so it won't be happening again."

"But do you know anyone who might've-"

"No." She paused, frowning. "Well, there is this ugly old guy who I see pretty much every night I work. He creeps me out, the perv. Stares at my boobs all night."

"Well, you should be used to that, I mean, you are a dancer-" I stopped, wincing as her angry eyes raked over me.

"How-?"

"Its kind-of common knowledge. Pretty much everyone knows what you do. Well, its a rumor, anyway."

She swore, accidentally jerking her hand and brushing mascara over her cheek. Suddenly furious, she threw the tube down at the bag, missing and scattering her various products across the bathroom floor.

"Are you OK?" I asked anxiously as she balled her hands into fists.

She turned to me, giving me the look of death. Suddenly, she wasn't Esme the sad and broken anymore. Esme the evil ice queen was rearing her ugly head again. "What right do people have to talk about my life? How dare they spread rumors about me? And you, little miss innocent, you trying to get me to talk about it so you can tell everyone and have a good old laugh at the pathetic attention seeker. You know what? My life was perfect before you came along. Now everyone's talking about how slutty and attention-seeking I am and how I just made up the kidnapping stories to get people to feel sorry for me." She shoved me unexpectedly and I crashed into the hard tile wall, finally afraid. She shoved me a few more times, yelling now. "Get away from me you ugly bitch. God, I hate your face so much. Go away. Just go. But watch your back."

I took the opportunity to escape before she could shove me again, and I ran all the way to class, wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

The next lunchtime, I decided to go to a higher source for answers. I hadn't really gotten anything out of Esme besides confusion and the well established fact that she hated me, so I was just as hopeless as before in that respect. The 'ugly old dude' who stared at her boobs and insulted her could possibly be Frollo. It would make sense, given the things he had called her. But that only meant that he both perved on her and hated her. Why would he try to kidnap her? What was I missing?

There was only one person who could know enough about him to tell me what I needed to know. That lunchtime I told Quasi I couldn't practice with him and instead borrowed Dez's phone and removed myself to the back oval, under the trees and away from prying eyes. Then I called Johanna du Moulin.

After the formalities, I got right to my subject. "Have you heard about the attempted abductions at the Park Ridge Tavern?"

"Yes, one happened recently. No one knew who it was. Why?"

"It was Frollo."

"Oh." She paused, letting this sudden news sink in. "How do you know?"

"I was there when he recruited Quasi to help him. He was the one who did it last time, too. I didn't want to tell anyone because I have no proof, but I just wanted to ask you why he would do something like that. You, of all people, should know him well enough to come to a conclusion about it."

"We-ell..." She sounded extremely hesitant to tell me anything. I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to sigh impatiently. I was 16, not 6, and a part of everything whether she liked it or not. There could no secrets anymore. "What do you know so far?"

"Frollo scared Quasi into helping him. They tried to abduct a girl at my school who works there as a dancer. Twice. He hates Asians and her especially, cuz she was telling me about his behavior when she's working there and he called her a 'skanky slope' once, but he also pervs on her whenever he can. So I want to know- why would he go so far as to kidnap her?"

Johanna sighed in my ear, and I could just picture her rubbing her temples as she tried to decide what to tell me. "You're not going to let up on me until I tell you everything, are you?

"No."

"OK, fine, but you have to promise that anything I tell you will remain between us. Not one word is to be repeated to anybody. You got that?"

"Of course."

"Ay-yi-yi..." She sighed again. "Claude has mental problems, Michigan. Always has. He was officially diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and mild skizophrenia when he was younger, but the medication usually masked it. I don't know what happened. Honestly I don't know how he got into the police force with mental issues and an attempted rape charge, but I suppose one of his 'friends'," I could hear the quote marks in her voice, "helped forge some documents or something-"

My eyes widened. "Whoa, wait up. A what charge?"

"Attempted rape. Years ago, before he joined the force- we're going back about 20 years, give or take- he got caught trying to... you know... a younger woman. God, she couldn't have been more than your age. He always had a thing for younger women, and that time he took it way too far. This time was probably the same."

I covered my face with my hand, trying to process what I'd just been told. Quasi's dad was a crazy criminal pedophile playing the part of a policeman. God, what a mess! And he was abusing his son on top of it. I needed that evidence that I had sworn to get more than I realized. I had to get Quasi out of there as soon as possible.

"Michigan? Are you there?"

I blew the air out of my cheeks and closed my eyes, mind working like crazy to find a way to help. "Yeah, sorry, its just a lot to take in. How do you know so much about him anyway?"

"We're cousins."

I sat up quickly, choking on my own saliva. "What?!"

"Claude Frollo and I are cousins. I'm not proud of that fact. But that's why I'm so informed. I'm family."

"Well that's... unexpected."

"I know. We don't look very alike, thank god. But that's everything. Is that all you wanted to know?"

"Yeah, I think so." It made perfect sense now. Put together a mental pedophile and some frankly gorgeous jailbait, and what did you get? Exactly what had happened. "This is heavy stuff."

"I know." She sounded grim. "Have you thought much about my request?"

"You mean to testify? I don't know. I might be able to do something else, though. Just give me some time. I'm working on it."

"Alright. Thank you for calling, but I have to get back to work."

"Oh, right. See you later."

"Call me again when you've made a decision."

"I will." I ended the call and sat back against the tree, not knowing what to do next. My questions had pretty much been answered. Now I needed to figure out a way to get proof of Frollo's abuse so that I could get Quasi out of there. Bruises were easy to explain away. Witness accounts were good, but only if believed, and for some reason this was not inclined to be believed. Frollo probably had some connections high up in the system- after all, someone had helped him with his criminal and mental health records. What then? I groaned, frustrated. It wasn't as easy as videoing it- there was no way I could do that.

Was there?

I sat up suddenly, an idea forming. It would need precise timing and proper organization, but it just might be possible...

I began to plan.

* * *

_**What might Mich have in mind?**_

_**Hope this chapter made sense. I dont have everything planned out so sometimes things get a little wonky :)**_

_**Review and tell me what you thought.** _


	21. When I'm With You

**_So last chapter Mich found out a few ugly truths about Frollo and started thinking of a way to help. This chapter, she puts her plan into action, finds some mysterious letters for Quasi and the girls get her thinking out her relationship with him._**

**_Read on, and then go and listen to Taylor Swift's 'Shake It Off' and Meghan Trainor's 'All About That Bass' if you haven't already, cuz they are awesome songs :)_**

* * *

Just a small town boy and girl  
livin' in a crazy world.  
Tryin' to figure out what is and isn't true.  
And I don't try to hide my tears.  
The secrets or my deepest fears.  
Through it all nobody gets me like you do.  
And you know everything about me.  
You say that you can't live without me.

That I'm only up when you're not down.  
Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground.  
It's like no matter what I do.  
Well you drive me crazy half the time;  
the other half I'm only trying to let you know that what I feel is true.  
And I'm only me  
Who I wanna be  
Well, I'm only me when I'm with you.

'I'm Only Me When I'm With You'- Taylor Swift.

* * *

My parents were fine with me sleeping over Dez's house to help her with homework. Creative writing, I told them. She has an assignment due Monday and needs my help, I told them. No matter how many times I did it, I always felt so guilty after lying to my parents. But I justified it by saying it was for the greater good. I would tell them everything when it was all over. Maybe.

As for Dez, I had to have an excuse to come over, so for a while we actually did do homework together. I helped her with her stuff, since I had already done it the year before, and I pretended to have trouble with mine and got her to help me. The whole time, I was dying of impatience, waiting for night to come so I could sneak out.

After homework, dinner, a movie or two and about an hour of truth or dare, Dez fell asleep. I grabbed my jacket and my cheap, ebay knock-off of a tablet, shoved my feet into some slippers and climbed out the window as quietly as I could.

The night air wasn't as cold as it had been last time I had done this, and I appreciated the lack of icy air as I pulled my jacket around me. I stuck to the shadows, avoiding the streetlamps and trying to stay out of sight. Now that the nights were warming up, the neighborhood was going to become a little busier at night, and I didn't want any trouble. Not that I was scared. Oh no.

More like terrified.

I gritted my teeth as I passed the shops, all lit up like a stadium, and fought the urge to freeze in fear as a bunch of young Samoans clustered around a lamp in the carpark, their loud, obnoxious voices carrying across the road. I scuttled across the street as quickly as I could, but I couldn't completely escape their notice.

"Hey, pahlungi!" one of them hollered at my rapidly retreating back, and everyone else laughed, calling me halfheartedly as I disappeared from their view. They weren't that interested in me, I realized later. They were just being their usual loud, fun selves. They were probably a little bit drunk, too.

By the time I reached Quasi's street, I was worn out and agitated and spoiling for a fight. Just let any of those ax-wielding homicidal maniacs I knew were lurking out there try to do anything to me.

It should be said that the stress and tiredness were beginning to take their toll on my mind at this point.

However, I was determined to push through. After all, it was for the greater good. So I found the now extremely familiar house and fought my way through the battlefield of a yard to the one window with a light on and tapped on the glass, wondering if I could actually go through with what I had planned tonight.

"W-what are you doing here?!" The words were halfway out of his mouth before he even got to the window. Fear and annoyance fought across his misshapen face as he pushed it up and looked outside for a car he knew would be arriving soon."T-tonight? You kn-know this isn't a good night!"

"I know." I wasn't sure what I could tell him that he would let me get away with- with all the planning and such, I hadn't actually rehearsed what I was going to say to him.

"Y-you know you can't be here!"

I took a deep breath. "Do you trust me, Kaz?"

He blinked. "Yes, of course."

I tucked my tablet under my arm and laid my hands across his as they rested on the windowframe. His skin was rough and warm under my touch as I looked into his eyes. "Do you believe me when I say that I would do anything, anything at all, to make everything alright?"

"Yes." His voice was a whisper now, an echo through the dark.

"Well, then, believe me now when I say that I need to be here tonight, no matter what happens." He started to protest, but I pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. "It will be OK."

And those four words seemed to dry up all his protests. He believed me. He trusted me. And now I had to prove that yes, it would indeed be alright.

Now determined to follow through with my plan, I placed my hands on the windowsill and hoisted myself up and through the window as Quasi quickly moved backwards to accommodate me. I bounced onto the bed and sat up and crossed my legs, peering at him through the darkness. "Do you always stay up and wait for him?"

"No p-point in going to s-sleep if I'm going to be woken up again."

"Oh." I looked around, making sure there was somewhere I could go when Frollo arrived. The closet looked big enough. Hopefully I would fit... "Why do you stay here, Quasi? Why don't you just, I dunno, run away?"

"Where would I go?"

"Johanna's place?"

He shook his head emphatically. "Th-that would be the f-first place he would look. He would only f-find me again and then it would b-be worse."

"But you can't stay here forever. What happens when you finish school?"

"I don't know."

I thumped the bed angrily. "I wish I could help you run away. Hide you at my place or something. You don't deserve to live like this!"

"According t-to him, I do," he replied quietly. "I'm a burden to him. H-his life has been hard enough w-without having to look after a 'misshapen monster of a child.' He sounded like he was repeating something he had heard many times before.

I could hardly believe it. "Did he call you that?"

"A few times."

My mouth dropped. "That's it. I'm gonna kill him. I am going to kill him!"

"Mich..."

I held up a hand, refusing to listen to any defense he might have for his cruel father. "No-no-no-no-no, you are not defending him. He locks you away in your room, beats you, and calls you monster, which you seem to believe, and you expect me to be fine with that? Well you listen here, Quasimodo: you are not a monster. I don't care how many times you have been called that, it is just not true. You are kind, and gentle, and generous, and an amazing person. Your father is wrong, I hope you see that, because I do."

He was silent, his face averted from me in the darkness, and so I sat there quietly, waiting for something to happen. I had a sneaking suspicion that he might've been crying, but I didn't want to confirm it, so I just moved a little closer so that our knees were touching, and breathed in the cool night air.

* * *

It was a little while later, when I had started to fall asleep, gotten up to stretch and accidentally stood on something that Quasi had been working on- I think it was a piece of wood being carves into something- that lights suddenly lit up the dark street and danced across the bedroom wall. All at once Quasi was on the floor, trying to shove bits and pieces of what looked like his artworks under the bed, and so of course I helped. It wasn't until we heard the front door slam that he realized I was still here.

"You have to go." It wasn't a request at all this time. It was an order. An order I had to disobey.

Not that there was time for me to clamber out the window anyway.

I barely made it into the closet before the door swung open and a very drunk, very grumpy, very hypocritical policeman stumbled in and immediately fell upon my friend. I scrambled for my tablet, opened the camera and started recording, fighting back tears and nausea as I listened to the sound of Quasi being beaten and yelled obscenities at by someone who should've been his protector. I knew who the monster was in that house, and it certainly wasn't my Kaz. Hopefully what I did tonight would help everyone else see it too.

I only just managed to stifle my gasp of horror as Frollo shoved Quasi into the wall and aimed one last clumsy clout at the top of his head before he turned away and lurched out of the room. When the door had banged shut and the heavy footsteps were far enough away, only then did I trust myself to stand.

Except I blindly grabbed a shelf to help myself up and ended up pulling a box down on top of me instead.

"Damn it," I muttered, feeling around on the floor for whatever had fallen out and trying to put it back. The box with full of random things, memories and old toys by the feel of it, and I think I managed to put most of them back. Then, coughing from the dust that the box of stuff had been gathering before I disturbed it, I grabbed my tablet from the mess and crawled out of the closet.

Quasi was curled up and leaning on the wall where he had been chucked, arms raised protectively around his head. I felt my throat close up and my stomach tie itself into an anxious knot as I touched his arm and saw what that evil man had done to my precious friend. He immediately relaxed at my touch and I lightly pulled him towards me, and he let me put my arms around him, even though he must have been hurting all over. I just sat on the floor and held him for a while, listening to the echo of footsteps somewhere in the house, the creaking of the roof, the humming of cicadas outside and his ragged breathing, worn out from the latest damage he had received. I held him until his breathing became slower and calmer, and I breathed with him, slowly and calmly, in and out, in and out, even if I didn't feel like being calm.

* * *

Some time later, when I had helped Quasi to bed and was sure he would be alright for the night, I left. Night was beginning to turn to morning, and I was so tired I could barely think. I almost got lost on the way back, but eventually I found the right street and pretty soon I was tumbling, exhausted, into bed, still holding my tablet and wearing my shoes.

It felt like I had only just closed my eyes when Dez's cat woke me later that morning. I rubbed my eyes and looked blearily around the room, seeing only an empty bed next to mine. Dez was up, then. What time was it? I remembered my tablet then, and I turned it on to check the time. 9:30. Yikes. Almost everyone in Dez's family got up at 6. I pushed the cat off me and sat up and stretched, letting out involuntary little groans as my muscles warmed up a bit.

"Oh good, you're up." Dez stood in the doorway, holding a book and her laptop. I vaguely remembered her saying something about extra credit homework the night before.

"You slept in quite a bit. Mum's at work and Richie took Karen to grandma's, so its just us for a bit. What do you want for brekkie?"

"Um, raisin toast is good, thanks. I'll make it myself."

"OK."

When she was gone, I went over and closed the door and started getting dressed. It was then that I realized I might've brought home more than I had left with last night. There on the bed, where I had been lying, was a very thin envelope.

I must've picked it up with my tablet after the box fell, I thought, reaching for the object. Or objects, as I immediately saw that it was in fact 3 very thin envelopes stuck together. They were stiff and unopened, and, as I carefully separated them, I saw they were numbered. I was about to open the first one before I realized that they weren't my property and I should probably return them to their rightful owners. They might have personal information or something like that, and I had no right to read them... No matter how strong that urge was. So I slipped them into my bag and continued dressing, trying not to think about them anymore.

* * *

That weekend I decided to forget. It wasn't that I didn't care or didn't want to care, it was just that I needed a break. Everything had become so dramatic and crazy, and I just wanted a few days of peace. So I pushes the events of the previous night to the back of my mind and promised to not think of it at all.

And it worked, more or less. Instead of brooding on the continuing problems of Quasi's life like I usually did, I let myself have fun. Fun basically meant a Doctor Who marathon and decorating Dez's brother's bedroom with barbie dolls and flowers and raiding the kitchen for chocolate. By the time I was dropped back home that night, I felt refreshed.

The next day was Sunday, which we spent cleaning the house. You would think a household of girls would be able to keep the place clean, but no. Not us. We were probably the messiest people in the world. So after pointing what needed to be done, dad went to bed (work was being more stressful than usual lately) and mum ducked out to get some ingredients for dinner,which left me in charge of the girls and without any time to think about 'things', which suited me very well.

So it wasn't until Monday that I allowed myself to remember everything, including the letters I had accidentally swiped. I managed to remember to take them to school with me, but unfortunately my tablet stayed on my bedside table, forgotten until the last minute with no time to do anything about the video I had taken.

Oh well. At least I had the letters.

We met at the lockers that morning and walked into music together, side by side. Apart from my one question of 'you alright?' and his one answer of 'yes,' we were silent, and we stayed silent through class. I doodled in my notebook as Miss Basso outlined the requirements of our last assignment for the year and reminded everyone that the end-of-year concert was in a few weeks and that auditions were still open. I hadn't realized how close we were to the end of the school year. Thinking that it was funny that the program wasn't full yet this close to the event, I wondered idly if I should audition to be in it. I probably wasn't good enough. Mind you, I was getting very good at guitar thanks to Quasi, and on a good day my voice wasn't half bad... Maybe. I would think about it.

Lunchtime came around and we met up in the usual place. As we took out our lunches and guitars, I stopped to watch him as he eased himself into his seat and absentmindedly rubbed his arm, at what was obviously a sore spot.

"We can skip the music lesson today if you're not feeling up to it," I offered gently, breaking the silence that we had been keeping all morning.

"No, I-I'm fine," he stated, trying to sit up a little straighter.

Liar.

I bit my lip to prevent myself from insisting that we give it a rest today and instead got out my guitar. It blew my mind sometimes how unselfish he was. He hated showing any vulnerability and so he hid it so as not to bother anyone. He was in pain and probably would've liked to just rest, but he also knew how much I wanted to learn to play and so he forced himself to do it. I suppose it was true what people say: the saddest people always try their hardest to make others happy. Because they know what its like to feel absolutely worthless and they don't want anyone else to feel like that. And truthfully, I had gone through a period after my breakup with Phoebus where I felt like the most worthless person in the world, so I knew what it was like. It made me like him even more, just knowing what he was doing for me.

"Well, if you're sure you're up to it..." I trailed off, then continued when he nodded vigorously, "I have a song I'd like to learn next." I opened my laptop and after a quick search through my documents, brought up a page of lyrics and chords. "You know it- I told you about it ages ago. My new favorite song."

"E-Everything Has Changed?"

"Everything Has Changed," I repeated with a smile. "You think you could play this one?"

"It's a duet," he pointed out, glancing down the screen.

"Yeah, I figured you can teach me the first part and then play the second part yourself."

"I think I can d-do that..." He peered at the first line, then showed me the chord on his guitar. I copied him. Then he showed me the next, and the next, and we continued like this for the next 10 minutes, trying out chords and singing bits of the song when I wasn't sure how it was supposed to sound. By the time 10 minutes was up, I was playing the intro and comparing it to the song I had on file.

"You're getting better," Quasi commented when I had finished. "You're learning quickly."

"Thanks. I guess just have a great teacher, huh?" I stood up and threw my lunch rubbish in the bin, smiling when I got it in. My music wasn't the only thing I was improving. As I went to sit down again, I felt something stiff in my back pocket and remembered the letters I had promised myself to give back to him without reading. "Oh, by the way, I might've accidentally taken something of yours home with me on Friday," I said, pulling them out. The word 'Friday' seemed put a cloud over Quasi's face, but it quickly evaporated when he saw the letters. He reached for them slowly, and I handed them over. "I pulled a box on top of me in the closet and I must've grabbed them when I grabbed my tablet. What are they?"

"I...I-I th-think..." He turned them over, looking at the numbers, and opened the first one. Recognition flooded his face as he pulled out a folded letter, and upon opening it and looking at the name on the bottom, he looked positively overwhelmed.

"Are you OK?" I asked finally, desperate for some kind of acknowledgement. "What is it?"

"I th-think..." he stammered dazedly, trying to form the words, "Th-this is, ah..."

"Would you like some time alone?" I offered.

He nodded.

So I stood up, leaned my guitar against the desk and left without another word, hoping that once he had sorted everything out, he would tell me what was going on.

* * *

"Oh, look who decided to rejoin the land of the living!" Em grinned at me as I approached our old lunch spot and patted the spot next to her. "Sit down, stranger. What are you doing here?"

I nodded at everyone and sat down on a tree root. "My music partner is in dire need of some alone time to straighten out personal matters, so I've decided to come out and see what's up. What are you guys up to?"

"Nothing much." Dez exchanged a look with Bex and Em before continuing a little hesitantly. "What about you? Anything interesting happen lately?"

"Um..." _Family secrets, Late-night rendezvous, mysterious letters..._ "Nah, nothing of interest."

"Oh. OK." She looked disappointed, like she knew I was hiding something from her and was sad that I wouldn't confide in her... which was probably the case, actually. I felt suddenly guilty about how little I was letting my friends into my life. They deserved to know the truth, didn't they? But how could I tell them what was going on when it wasn't really my business to tell? So I kept my mouth shut and decided to let everything play out in its own good time.

Unfortunately, the girls had other ideas.

"You look tired," commented Bex, watching me closely. It was a perfectly innocent observation, but it felt probing, like there was hidden meaning behind it.

"Do I?" I blinked a few times, wondering how bad it looked. I hadn't spent very much time in front of the mirror that morning, so I wasn't sure how much my late nights were taking a toll on my appearance. "I am a bit tired, I guess. You know how it is."

My friends were notorious for spending hours online at night, but in this case I don't think they had that in mind. Em sighed as if she was sick of beating around the bush and sat up a little straighter as she looked at me, watching for a reaction. "I guess I would, if I was the one sneaking out at night to do who-knows-what with who-knows-who."

I stared at her, unable to even pretend innocence. "What?"

She huffed in annoyance and gestured to the others. "C'mon Mich, cut it out. We know, OK? We know you sneak out at Dez's sleepovers to be with your boyfriend or whatever. Do you think we're stupid or something?"

"You left the screen open on Friday night," Dez pointed out quietly, "And you had shoes on in the morning. In bed. And grass on your pajamas. It was obvious that you went somewhere when I was asleep."

"And I remember waking up one time to find you gone," Bex piped up, twirling her hair as she tried to remember. "I thought you went to the loo or something, but you were gone for ages. I think I went back to sleep waiting for you."

"And plus, you really do look tired. Like, you have bags under your eyes. It's not a good look." That was Em, obviously. Trust her to point out the attractiveness of something, or lack thereof.

"So what's going on?" Dez leaned forward expectantly. "Where do you go? How long has this been going on? And why haven't you told us yet?"

I groaned and looked up at the canopy of branches above me to avoid facing their expectant stares. "Well if you must know, I've been visiting a friend."

"Quasimodo," Em said flatly. She snorted at the look on my face when I turned to her in surprise. "What? You must think we're idiots if you think we can't work it out. Of course it has to be him. He seems to be the only thing you care about anymore."

"You would care a damn awful lot too if one of us was having problems at home," I snapped. "I'm trying to help him. Do you know what it's like to have no friends and a difficult home life and no one to talk to?"

"Difficult as in... abusive?"

I stared at Em, wondering if she had suddenly developed telepathy. "What makes you say that?"

"He's scared of everything. I watch him sometimes and he's always jumpy and creeping around like he's walking on eggshells. Also, bruises. It would make sense if he came from an abusive home."

"And why have you been watching him?"

"Oh, that..." She glanced at Bex, who smiled sheepishly. "Bex kinda sees you two together, so I was trying to figure out what you see in him. I still don't know. I mean, he's nice, but not someone you're usually into."

I laughed incredulously. "Are you really saying that to me with a straight face? Have you even seen my favorite movies and TV shows? Edward Scissorhands, Doctor Who, Star Trek, Sherlock-"

"We all love Sherlock and Doctor Who!" Em interrupted. "What do they have to do with this?"

"But do you know why I love Sherlock? Because he's an outcast. And what about Doctor Who and Star Trek Next Gen? The Doctor is an alien, and Data is an android. Both love humanity but they're always on the outside. All my favorite characters are different or outcasts of some kind. Is it really such a stretch to believe I'd like someone different from everybody else in real life?" I paused, then added quickly, "That is, if I liked him that way. Which I don't."

"If you say so," said Bex, sounding unconvinced. "But you must care about him an awful lot. We hardly ever see you anymore, and you even go out at night to see him. As if you don't see each other enough already."

"He needs me, and I want to help him." I shrugged. "If you can't understand that, then I don't know what else to say to you."

"We want to understand." Dez sounded frustrated, and I didn't blame her. I would too, I guess. "But things have changed so much in the past semester that its hard to know what to think. You hardly tell us anything anymore! We hardly know this boy, but suddenly he seems to be the most important person in your life. You were always so afraid of people noticing you, but now you're one of the most talked-about person in the school and you don't care. You've squashed the biggest bully in the school, become some kind of personal carer and you've stopped talking to us, your best friends. What are we supposed to think? What are we supposed to do?"

The others nodded in agreement with her, and suddenly I realized how right they were. Things had changed so fast around them, and I was never around. Of course they were bound to be upset and confused! I would be too if one of my friends went and changed the world around me without any explanation! It was time that changed. I had to make it up to them, and that meant explaining a few things.

So for the first time in ages, I decided to trust someone else.

I told them almost everything, from our first conversation and shaky beginnings of friendship, to unwittingly becoming involved in everything and trying to fix things on my own. I didn't tell them the specifics of Quasi's 'family troubles' or difficult history, but made sure they knew that things were difficult and complicated. And they listened, as I knew they would. They paid attention and didn't interrupt and reacted in all the right places, and when I was finished I felt better for getting it off my chest. I never realized how heavy secrets could be until then, until I let some of them go.

"What are we going to do about it?" Em asked as soon as I had finished. That was why I liked her- she was always straight to the point and willing to help.

"Nothing," I answered her. "I don't want you guys to do anything unless I ask for it. He doesn't want anyone to know about this stuff, so don't tell him I told you and don't treat him any differently than you already do. Ok?"

"Ok." Dez sighed. "Thank you for telling us. We only want to help, and it's a bit of a pain when you keep secrets."

"I know." I scratched my head awkwardly. "And you're right. I have been spending too much time hidden away. I can kinda understand where the dating rumours come from."

"Are they just rumours though?" Bex sounded a tad bit too hopeful for my liking. "Are you sure you don't like him in that way?"

At my look, Em laughed. "I know, I know, it's getting a bit annoying, but it's a valid question." She sobered quickly and tapped my arm, speaking slowly. "Can you tell us with absolute certainty that you don't have feelings for him? Can you say that it is completely impossible? Think it through."

And just when I was about to tell them that of course I don't have feelings for him and I never will because I learned my lesson with Phoebus and don't want to get into anything like that for a long time, I stopped. Up until that moment, I had known exactly what my answer was to the question. The words were on my tongue, ready to be spoken, to firmly quiet their obviously ridiculous questions, but my mouth refused to move. Instead, my mind started to wonder if I was being entirely truthful with myself. And then I wasn't sure at all.

I had thought that I was safe from difficult feelings. I thought I had determined not to get into that again, because it only brought pain in the long-run. I had been so certain of myself and my heart until now. What had happened? Why couldn't I say with firm decision that was most certainly not, and never would be, in love with Quasimodo?

Curse my stupid heart.

The girls were starting to wonder about my silence, and I could almost see the cogs turning in their minds as they wondered if they had struck a chord. I wanted to laugh and tell them that they were way off the mark, and then change the subject to something less invasive and confusing, but when I finally opened my mouth, it was with a helpless shrug and a defensive tone. "I don't know."

"What do you mean-"

"I mean I don't know. I don't _think_ I like him like that, but I can't say never. It might happen, but it might not. I don't know! Are you happy now?"

"I guess so." I could tell Bex was excited by the answer I had given her, and I wished that I could've said something a lot more concrete. But I couldn't. My heart was a mystery to me, and I didn't know if I would ever understand it.

The others looked like they were finished with the questions for now, so I stood up and brushed myself off, eager to leave. It wasn't often that my friends could make me uncomfortable, but this time in particular was really getting to me. "Good. I'm gonna go check on him. See you later."

I left before they could respond, wondering why life had to be so damn complicated.

* * *

_**Next chapter will reveal the contents of the mysterious letters. An idea of what they might be?**_

_**Don't forget to review!**_

_**And maybe check out the prologue for my Edward Scissorhands fic.**_


	22. Crazier

_**So I've been on holidays for about a month, with very little internet access. Sorry about that. Hopefully you guys haven't lost interest by now. **_

_**I'd like to thank Leslie The Sorceress, rapunzel101, Doctor Pot8osoup, Antikreativ (guest), Reviewer (guest), AmaryllisBloom and Darkfire333 for your encouraging reviews. Seriously guys, I don't know what I'd do without your supportive comments and suggestions. I love you all so much :)**_

_**And now, on with the story!**_

* * *

I've never gone with the wind  
Just let it flow  
Let it take me where it wants to go  
Till you open the door  
There's so much more  
I've never seen it before  
I was trying to fly  
But I couldn't find wings  
Then you came along  
And you changed everything

You lift my feet off the ground  
Spin me around  
You make me crazier, crazier  
Feels like I'm falling and I  
I'm lost in your eyes  
You make me crazier,  
Crazier, crazier...

Crazier- Taylor Swift

* * *

I hesitated outside the art room, one hand resting on the doorknob and the other loosely swinging the key on its chain. It was nearly the end of lunch and I didn't know whether Quasi was ready to talk yet. Should I bother going in? Or should I leave it and wait until later? Would he even tell me what was going on if I asked? I suppose there's only one way to find out. I bit my lip and turned the key in the lock, and cracked the door open a little bit.

Through the narrow shafts of sunlight that cut across the room and highlighted the dustmotes that floated silently in the air, I could see that Quasi was sitting where I left him, reading one of the letters. Paper, photos and what looked like money were scattered over the desk. He was slouched over the desk, a hand over his mouth and the other holding the letter close to his face, his eyes devouring the words as if they were food. I felt my stomach twist as I saw the look on his face- so focused, so intense, as if he would die if I interrupted him now. I quickly tiptoed backwards and closed the door with a quiet 'click'- deciding that, for once, I would actually respect his privacy and leave him alone- and stood there, motionless except for the key that swung like a pendulum from my fingers as I wondered what to do now.

I had to keep myself occupied somehow, to avoid thinking too hard about certain questions my friends had raised. A distraction shouldn't be too hard to find, I thought to myself. I am a great procrastinator, after all. One of the best.

But there really was nothing to do. I didn't want to go all the way back down the oval to the girls. I didn't want to talk to anybody. And my laptop... I looked around for my bag, only to realize that it was still inside the room in front of me. I looked around the empty hall, as if there might be someone around to advise me, and then shrugged. I would have to go in there in a little while anyway. Why not now? I could sneak in, grab my stuff, and sneak out again. No harm done.

I opened the door again and walked over to my seat, packing up my stuff as noiselessly as I could. A sound from Quasi distracted me, however, and I looked over at him curiously. He appeared to have reached the end of the letter, which seemed to confuse him; it took a few moments of flipping the paper from one side to the other and peering inside the envelope for him to realize that it was really finished. Once he had, he did something that made me stare- he carefully folded the letter, lightly kissed it, and gently slid it back in its envelope. Then he did the same to the other letters- fold, kiss, slide it into the same envelope as the other one. The photos were put in one envelope, the money in the last one, but I wasn't paying attention to those. I was too busy wondering just how important those letters were that they received a kiss, of all things. What exactly had I found? Something special, evidently, to inspire that much fondness. And then I was seeing that feather-light kiss on a cheek instead of paper, and realized I had forgotten to breathe.

I shook my head to clear it, took a few deep breaths to remind my lungs how to work again, and finished putting my guitar away, feeling heat creep up my face. I felt stupid, getting worked up over someone kissing an object. It wasn't as if it was meant to be romantic. I probably wasn't even supposed to see it. It was just the sweetness of the moment and the ideas that my friends had put in my head, I decided. That was all. Even as I thought it I could hear Em's knowing voice in my head. "You just keep telling yourself that, girl," she said, the voice kind of echoey but not losing any of her characteristic sarcasm. "Just keep telling yourself that."

My stuff packed away, I straightened up and looked over at Quasi, who was now staring down at the envelopes on the desk with a troubled but vacant look. Whatever he was thinking about, it seemed to be turning quite a few cogs in that brain of his. Checking my watch, I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped over to the table. "Hey Kaz, you OK?"

"What?" He snapped out of his daze at the sound of my voice, giving me a fleeting glance before quickly gathering up the envelopes and holding them protectively to his chest. "Oh, I'm fine. Just f-fine."

"You're a terrible liar." Moved by some strange sentimentality, I leaned down and wrapped my arms around him, feeling him stiffen at my unexpected affection but choosing not to dwell on it. "Its perfectly ok to not be ok, you know," I murmured to him. "Just don't push me away."

For a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but instead he leaned back a little so that we were cheek to cheek, sharing each others warmth and space and staring down at the envelope with 'Quasimodo' written in simple cursive on the front. My curiosity about what was inside those letters was gnawing at my insides, but I couldn't ask to read them. No way. I had forced enough secrets out of this boy already, I couldn't demand him to share this private thing with me as well. So I kept silent and contented myself with knowing that I could be of some comfort to my friend when he needed it.

Of course, as what always seemed to happen, the ringing of the bell interrupted the moment and I pulled away quickly, startled and embarrassed. "We sh-should get to class," I stammered, fiddling with my bag strap as I started to back away, avoiding his eyes. My heart was suddenly hammering in my chest like it wanted to escape and I wondering if the heat spreading up my neck was visible to him.

Quasi nodded, not seeming to notice my current heart attack, and started to sweep the envelopes into his bag, only to pause and look up at me with indecision. Then, making up his mind, he pulled out the first one and held it out to me. "Here. Y-you can read them if you w-want."

Though I was secretly thrilled, I knew I couldn't just accept them like that. "But they're yours. They're special to you, I can't read something private of yours."

"Yes you can." He smiled that strangely beautiful smile and my heart betrayed me by turning into a hummingbird. "I want you to."

I reached for them, trying not to show how excited I actually was. "Why?"

"Because you're my f-friend."

"Oh," was all I could say. Inside I was beaming. We had gone from me begging to know what was going on to him voluntarily sharing personal information with me. I won't lie- it made me feel special. But time was ticking, the sounds of lunchtime were all but faded, and we had to go. I slipped the envelope in my bag and smiled back at him. "Well, thanks. I'll read them. Who are they from?"

"My m-mother."

There wasn't time to refect on that properly, but now I certainly felt burdened with great privilege. "Really? I'll be careful then."

"Good." He stood up, and we headed out to our respective classes.

* * *

I didn't read the letters straight away, though. I wanted to wait for the right time, which would probably be alone, at home, so that I could absorb them properly. So though I was dying to find out what was inside, I kept them in the bottom of my bag, out of reach, and distracted myself by thinking about the concert.

I was actually starting to think that a part in it was possible, but I didn't want to do it alone. Playing and singing in front of the whole school, plus parents and interested parties? Just the thought made me nervous. My voice sounded better singing with someone else, anyway. Singing with Quasi. We sounded pretty good together now. I wondered if he would consider doing the concert with me. Of course Frollo wouldn't let him go, and he probably didn't want to go up on the stage where he was so humiliated last time, but if I could somehow make sure everything went well...

At the end of the day, I managed to catch Quasi as he was leaving and decided to ask him then and there.

His response was a horrified "WHAT?!"

"OK, just hear me out," I said quickly. "We're both really good now and we sound great singing together. I think it would be a great experience, and it would show everyone that we're OK, we've bounced back from all the bullying and we won't be messed with. I would love to do it, but I don't want to do it alone."

He shook his head, looking most distressed. "I-I-I can't go up on that s-stage again! And you kn-know I wouldn't be able t-to come! He wouldn't let me!"

"What if I promised you that nothing would go wrong? What if I could sneak you out without Frollo ever finding out and make sure that everything would go well on the stage? If I could do that, would you do it? Would you trust me?"

"I-I... suppose... But can you do that?"

"Yes." Although it was only an idea and I wasn't confident that I could pull it off, I had to sound positive. This was one of things that didn't make sense, but I just had to do it. "Yes, think I can." He didn't look convinced, so I decided to leave it for now but keep him thinking. "Just think about it, OK? I really think it would be good for us."

"I will. I-I think about it."

I smiled and impulsively kissed him on the cheek, only just realizing afterwards what I had done. Mortified, I muttered a hurried 'see-ya' and left, not waiting to see his reaction.

* * *

At home, I was berating myself for my stupidity. I threw my bag in a corner of the room and fell backwards onto the bed, hands over my face as I thought about that kiss.

What is the matter with you? Like we need anything to get get any more confusing than it already is! We already have awkward conversations and my friends getting me to second-guess my feelings, and now I decide to add a kiss too?

I groaned and pulled myself up, staring at my bag. I needed a distraction. I knew my way of handling things was wrong, that I needed to face my questions instead of hiding from them, but I couldn't, not yet. Putting it off wouldn't help, but right now I didn't feel ready to address the matter and besides, now I had a good reason to put it off. I scrambled over to my bag and dug through it, looking for the envelope, and pulled it out triumphantly. Then I scrambled back to the bed, got comfortable, and jumped straight into reading the letters.

* * *

_My dear Quasimodo,_

_I'm not quite sure how to start this off. I had it all worked out in my head, what I was going to write in the first of many letters to you, my son, but when I put pen to paper all my beautiful words and eloquent speeches vanish from my mind. I only know one thing- that this was to be my gift to you, to remind you how much I love and cherish you, for you to read when you're older and can understand the world around you. Not too well though, I hope. I cannot wish that upon you, my dear child, not when the world around us so narrow minded and cruel. And especially when they seem so set on pointing out your differences._

_You are only a baby, but already I can see the rest of the world turning on us like we are somehow lower than the rest of them. It is hard to understand human nature sometimes. We rally for equality but refuse to acknowledge beautiful children like you as the same as the others._

_Of course I am not blind to the facts, but I refuse to think of you as an embarrassment that must be concealed. How could I, as your mother, betray you like that? You, who are innocent and have done nothing to deserve you treatment except be born the way you are?_

_It is very fortunate that we have another to take our side. Claude has been a godsend to me. I don't know how I would've survived this long without him. I hope you never have to know the pain I have been through. I hope you learn freedom and strength and things I never got a chance to learn. I am so grateful that I have a chance to teach you, to build up your spirit before everyone else tries to crush it. No- I am grateful for you, my son. You have given me something to live for again. Nothing can compare to the happiness I feel when I hold you in my arms and know that we are part of each other, that we share the same blood and lifeforce, that I have a responsibility to another human being to keep you alive and happy. That you are mine, that you came from me. The moon danced with the stars the night you were born, my love. You changed my life in ways I never thought possible, and I want you to know that I love you with all my heart._

_I want these letters to be something you cherish when you are forced into the dark, cruel world; something to remind you how much I love you when I'm not there, and to help you to keep going when the road seems too rocky for you to cross._

_Keep these words imprinted on your heart, so that I am always with you even when I'm not._

_With all my love,_

_Mother._

* * *

_Dear beautiful boy,_

_I love you best when you are asleep and better still when you are awake. You look at me with eyes full of wonder, eyes big and green and sparkling with merriment. You are such a happy baby, always. I hope that never changes._

_Of course, you are not quite a baby anymore- you must be at least 2 years old, big and bouncy and ready to take on the world. You crawl and try to speak, your garbled words sounding more polished everyday. I love it when you try to sing with me. Even if you can't talk yet, I can tell you're going to have a beautiful voice. You've started grabbing at my guitar strings, so I've been teaching you to play. I sit you in my lap and hold your fingers on the strings, strumming out chords, and you laugh in delight. I love your laugh. It tinkles like little bells and fills me with such joy. You and Claude are everything to me, my family._

_I suppose I have things to apologize for. Your name, for starters. I'm not an educated woman, and when Claude suggested you be named 'Quasimodo' I agreed because I thought it was an interesting name. Such a unique child deserves a better name than James or Harry. And what would I know of foreign languages? It wasn't until recently that I found out the meaning of your name._

_I don't know what Claude was thinking. Surely he didn't know the meaning, did he? How could he do such a cruel thing? As if life won't be difficult enough for you when you get older. I intend to spare you from it as much as possible, but I won't be able to shield you forever. I suppose all I can do is show you that you're loved and teach you that you are not inferior, despite what the world tries to tell you._

_I leave you now with all my love,_

_Mother._

* * *

_My child,_

_It has been a long time since I wrote your last letter. Life seems to want to get in the way of the simpler things, and time refuses to slow down and give me some breathing space. I can't believe its already been 3 years since you came into the world. What a day that was. The day I held you in my arms for the first time, I realized I had a reason to live again. You and Claude are the only things that kept me in this world when I thought there was nothing left for me. That's the reason I watch you every waking moment- because one day I fear I will wake up and find that you were just a sweet dream to keep me going. I love to watch you toddle around the house, reaching for things and speaking with those soft, lisping words. You are so eager to learn and discover and be, and I can't help but learn and discover with you. It's like I'm seeing everything all over again. And that's when I think that everything in my life has lead up to you. At least this is what I remind myself when things get too hard- that I have to keep going, for you, because you saved me._

_And things are getting hard. I thought I was finally somewhere I could be safe and secure, but it seems that I'm not destined for an easy life. I fear for your safety every day that we stay here, but leaving isn't an option. The fact is that we could not live for long without Claude's support, though even that is becoming something of a joke. Whether we stay or go, it seems we are doomed._

_But don't fret, my child. I will find a way for us to one day live in peace. Until then we must be strong. I'm already making plans-_

* * *

And that was where the last letter abruptly ended. I blinked, confused, and turned it over, hoping for some closure, but there was nothing. Just half a sentence that ended right when it was getting interesting. Frustrated, I tossed the letters away and lay back on the bed, deep in thought.

So, Frollo actually used to be nice for a little while. And Quasi's mother adored her son. I frowned, remembering something he had told me once- that apparently his mother ran away when he was young and died in a car accident. Ran away. But the letters she wrote all those years ago... They were so intimate, so loving. He had been everything to her. So how could she run away and leave him with his monster of a father, who by the third letter had obviously started down the path of abuse already? There was no way she would ever have done that. So what happened?

I sighed and sat up again, and put then letters away before I forgot where they were and they got lost. This was not my story, and I wouldn't get the answers to my questions tonight. Better to work it out with Quasi tomorrow. What I can think about, however, is how on earth am I going to pull off this concert thing?

Now this was going to be a challenge. Of course it was definitely possible to sneak him out of the house that night, but could I get him back before Frollo found out? Probably not. And Frollo would probably half kill him for going out. So how could I avoid that? Perhaps this whole idea is stupid and I should forget it. Unless... What if Frollo wasn't there? Now there was a thought. If he wasn't there, he would never know. But he was usually home in the afternoons, so how would I get him away? And how would I do it in a way that wouldn't get us all a hiding?

Suddenly, like a lightening bolt to the head, I was struck with an idea. Or a fragment of one.

I had evidence of Frollo's brutality on my tablet. Evidence that Johanna du Moulin needed to finally get her brother convicted. I had been a terrible friend by not sending it to her yet, dragging out Quasi's ordeal more than was necessary. But I had an idea of how these things worked, and if Johanna got her evidence now, she would waste no time in getting Frollo dragged off and Quasi sent somewhere else. He would become a foster child, passed on to the closest living relative who probably lived on the other side of Australia. All this would happen very quickly, with no time for goodbyes or negotiations and definitely no time for concerts. It was a disgustingly selfish reason to withhold the evidence that could end his suffering, but for some reason I had to do this. We had to go up on that stage and song a song together, to show everyone how strong we were despite their persecution. And I couldn't just send him away like that. I couldn't.

BUT...

What if I kept it only until the day of the concert? What if Frollo was taken away right before or after we left, with no chance to find out about the event? We could do the concert and then they could take Quasi to wherever they wanted. It would be our last thing we did together before he had to go. A salute to our friendship.

Just then, I was called to dinner, and buoyed up by my brilliant idea, I joined everyone at the table, preoccupied with wondering how exactly I was going to pull this thing off...

* * *

_**I was going to write more, but I think I'll leave it there. Review and tell me what you think. And I'm open to suggestions, too. I don't know everything, so I'm happy to hear you guys' ideas for what I should write next.**_

_**Until next time.**_


	23. You Make Me Strong

_**OK, this chapter has been a while in the making. I was actually writing it on my tablet, which broke, so I had to wait to get it fixed before I could finish. Then I started another story, which you should totally go check out, plus I'm doing volunteer work and looking for a job, so my life is quite hectic at the moment. But anyway, I love writing this story and hope you like reading it :)**_

_**Special thanks to rapunzel101, ChibiFelicia and Mrs. Gold for your lovely comments.**_

* * *

My hands,  
Your hands  
Tied up  
Like two ships.

Drifting  
Weightless.  
Waves try to break it.  
I'd do anything to save it.  
Why is it so hard to say it?

My heart,  
Your heart  
Sit tight like book ends.

Pages  
Between us  
Written with no end.  
So many words we're not saying.  
Don't wanna wait 'til it's gone.  
You make me strong.

I'm sorry if I say, "I need you."  
But I don't care,  
I'm not scared of love.  
'Cause when I'm not with you I'm weaker.  
Is that so wrong?  
Is it so wrong  
That you make me strong?

Strong- One Direction

* * *

"Miss Basso!" I called, walking as quickly as I dared after the music teacher. It was morning, the bell had just rung, and I was definitely going to be late for maths class, but there was something I had to ask my favorite teacher first. "Miss Basso!"

The teacher stopped suddenly and turned around, and I nearly crashed into her, only just managing to stop. "Michigan! Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"I had to ask you something." I paused, trying to catch my breath, and continued. "How long are the concert spots open for?"

"I'll be accepting entries until the last Wednesday of school, providing that there are still some spots open by then. So that's two-and-a-half weeks." She frowned, tapping her pen on her folder. "But if you want in, why not enter now?"

"Oh, it's just Quasimodo. I'm trying to convince him to be in it with me."

She smiled knowingly before straightening out her expression into something more professional. "Well, if he decides to be involved, tell him you both need to audition for me first. I need to know what song you'll be playing and whether you're any good."

"Oh." I wondered if he would be okay with that. Miss Basso could be an intimidating presence despite her lack of height, and I didn't want him chickening out at the last minute. An audience full of people could be tuned out, but one scary teacher might be his undoing. "I'll tell him."

The teacher must've seen my hesitation, because like the awesome person she was, she immediately came to the rescue with an alternative. "Or you could always record the song and give it to me like that if he's feeling shy." Her eyes crinkled at the edges. "Which he always is, right?"

I nodded, smiling. "Pretty much. That should be perfect. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now you really should get to class."

I nodded and left quickly, and she continued on her way.

Three classes later I was unlocking the door to our 'sanctuary' and rifling through my bag for the letters he had given me.

"So I talked to Miss Basso and she says she'd like an audition from you for the concert," I casually mentioned to Quasi as he got out his lunch and his guitar.

His reaction to my words was totally predictable- wide eyes, fearful expression, fumbling hands. "An audition?"

"Yeah, just a little performance, nothing to worry about. She's gotta make sure the concert actually has people with talent in it." I took out the letters and handed them over. "These are yours. I read them last night. They're beautiful."

"Y-yes, b-but..." Now he looked confused- still protesting about the audition and wanting to talk about his mum at the same time would do that. "I c-can't audition-"

"Sure you can." I don't know why I was holding out on telling him the easy way out. I guess I found it amusing, how scared he was of things. _You're so mean_, I chastised myself, and decided to tell him. "But she said we can record it and send it in if you want."

He look only a tiny bit relieved. "Oh... Th-that's good, I guess."

"You guess?" I unzipped my guitar case and balanced my guitar on my knees, starting to tune it up. "Do I sense a 'but' coming up?"

"I-It's just..." He tapped his fingers on his instrument, searching for the right words. "I don't know, it's kind of..."

"Scary?"

"Yeah."

I smiled. "Don't be scared. I'll be with you every step of the way."

He met my eyes searchingly. "I know you will. But how are we going to do it?"

I considered telling him the whole plan, but realized that if he knew something was going to happen to his father, he might accidentally give the game away, or even refuse to go through with it. He was too loyal, that boy. Though it was admittedly a quality I admired in him, it would not serve him well in this instance. So I answered him with a question of my own. "How did you get here last time? I talked to your dad once when dropping off your homework and he said that he forbade you to go. What did you do?"

"I snuck out," he answered simply.

"Well obviously. But tell me the details. What happened exactly?"

Quasi leaned back, his eyes fixed on a spot on the dusty old carpet. He looked a bit distant, which was not surprising considering that I was asking him to bring up memories from an night he would probably rather forget. "I told him that I had been invited to the dance and asked if I could go. He said no and told me that he was protecting me. He told me that no one could possibly want to be my friend and that they wanted to use me for something. I thought he was wrong. For the first time I felt like I had been accepted for who I was. I..." Here he glanced at me briefly before looking away again. "I-I liked Esme. I thought she liked me too. And I wanted to believe it so much that I ignored my better judgment and decided to defy him. So that night I waited until he went out again and then I left. Esme and a friend of hers picked me up at the bus station. And rest is history."

How well I knew it. That 'history' had been recorded and put on YouTube for the whole world to see.

"I guess he was right..." he continued bitterly, but I stopped him before he could go any further.

"Quasi, stop it. He may have been right about Esme, but not anything else. You have friends, you have talent, and by the sound of those letters, your mother loved you. So don't let one bad experience rule your actions, OK?" I grinned. "Cuz there's no way I'm letting you off that easy."

He looked at his bag, where his beloved letters rested, and I knew exactly what he was thinking about. "Y-you know, I think I almost believe that now."

"Good, I hope so." I paused, wondering if I was crossing into forbidden territory. But then he had let me read the letters, so I suppose this was no different. "Speaking of, can I just ask, what was your mum like?"

He smiled, his whole face lighting up, and I felt that little skip of the heart that meant I was being an idiot again. "She was... musical. Always playing, always singing. I d-don't remember what she looked like, but I know that she was beautiful." The happy expression quickly turned to sadness. "I was too young to remember much else. She left when I was about three- j-just after the last letter was written, I guess."

"She didn't really leave, though, did she?" I frowned. "Her letters were so loving. You were everything to her. She couldn't have just left like that, surely?"

"I don't know." Quasi sighed dejectedly. "I was always told that she hated me. Apparently I was an 'unhappy accident' and a 'great burden to both of them'. Finally she couldn't bear to look at me anymore and left me with my father. Depending on how drunk he is when he tells the story, she either got into a terrible accident on the motorway or deliberately drove into a tree. Either way, she died because of me."

_Wow... talk about depressing..._ "But that's obviously not true. I mean, you remember her as a happy person, and she states her love for you numerous times in her letters. In fact she was making plans to get out before she died, because by then he was already abusing both of you. She would not have just left you there with him. Face it, Kaz- your father has been lying to you."

He stared down at the floor, troubled. "Then what happened?" he whispered, more to himself than to me.

"I'll ask Johanna. She should know." I plucked a few strings on my guitar, drawing both our minds back to the original subject. "Wow, OK, got a bit offtrack there. We need to choose a song. Any ideas?"

He shook his head, still preoccupied, and I stopped planning for a moment and looked at him properly for the first time in a while. He was tired- we both we re, but him especially. We needed a break. The audition could wait a few more days.

I leaned my instrument against the desk and dug my key out of my bag again. "Come on, you. Let's get out of here."

"What? Where are we going?"

"Outside. We've both been inside for too long."

I tugged lightly on his sleeve on my way to the door, which seemed to wake him up a bit, and he placed his guitar carefully next to mine and followed me out.

I had a vague idea of what I wanted to do, but it wasn't until we were out in the sun in view of the basketball courts that I made a decision. With a grin, I motioned for him to follow me and we headed to the sports block, which was basically just a bunch of sheds with equipment in them. He realized what I was doing when I tried to open the doors with my key- which obviously didn't work, but it was worth a try.

"Y-you're not going to break in, are you?" he asked anxiously as I circled the sheds, eyeing the windows.

"What, me? Never!" I laughed dryly as I circled the shed with the balls in it. "I'm not going to break anything!"

"Oh dear..."

For some reason I found those two words adorable and had to restrain myself from telling him so. It must've been the sunlight and fresh air affecting me, because suddenly I felt like doing the most stupid things. One such thing was levering open one of the seldom-used windows and wriggling in to grab a basketball from the basket underneath. I managed to do it quite easily, but when I tried to wriggle back, I found I was stuck.

"Oh, crap..." I stopped struggling for a moment to catch my breath, wondering how I looked from the other side, hanging from my waist in a window. Chances were it probably wasn't a very pretty sight. With a grunt, I worked the basketball under one arm and stretched the other one out behind me. "Hey Kaz, a little help here!"

I felt him grab my hand and pull, and I wriggled backwards until I was in the right position to be yanked out. Well, I say yanked. More like flew out. I was pulled out so forcefully that I would've face-planted the nearby trees if Quasi hadn't still been holding my hand. As it was he still need to hold it to stop me from keeling over from the abruptness of it.

He realized what he had done as I was catching my breath and nearly let go of me. "Oh g-god, I'm s-sorry!" he stammered, pulling me quickly to my feet and backing away.

I swept my hair out of my face and held up the ball, wondering how disheveled I actually looked. "Hey, don't sweat it. We got the ball, didn't we?"

When he saw that I wasn't the least bit perturbed by my rough exit from the window, he relaxed, and I tossed him the ball and shut the window. Then I motioned for him to follow me and headed for the courts.

I spent the rest of lunchtime trying to teach him to shoot hoops, which was surprisingly hard, considering he seemed to be so good at everything else. By the end of it I figured he would probably be better at football, and I left the ball back in the art room.

During music that day, Quasi had another surprise for me. Instead of researching a classical musician for our last assignment of the year like I was supposed to, I was writing an email to Johanna about the recent developments and the things we had learned about Quasi's mother. The big question I wanted answered was this: if she had loved her son as much as her letters showed, why did she leave? Why not take him with her? Surely Johanna would know.

Halfway into the email, an envelope- the second one- was slid over to my desk and left there. I eagerly snatched it up and pulled out the photos that had accompanied the letters, sending a grateful smile to Quasi as I did so. I had really wanted to see these photos. I guess goods things did come those who waited.

The first one was a woman with a baby. The baby I glossed over, knowing who it was immediately. No-one could've been an uglier baby than Quasimodo. But I didn't dwell on him, because it was the woman I was drawn to. Eyes closed, dull brown hair falling over her face, and holding the baby close to her like it was her life force. Her face, from what I could see of it, was normal- no sign of her son's deformities anywhere. Her skin was clear, features properly proportioned, and nothing showed me that she might have any back problems, though that could be easily hidden, I guess.

The second photo showed two women, the mother and what looked like a younger version of Johanna. So they had been friends, then. They had their arms around each other and were smiling widely at the camera, posing in front of the Sydney Opera House. Gulls swooped in the background and the breeze ruffled their hair. It was such a wholesome, fun scene that I couldn't help smiling at it.

The next photo was just her and a guitar. She was still smiling, her teeth slightly crooked, and now I could see how beautiful she really was. Her hair, instead of being dull like the first picture, was dark and curly, flowing over her shoulders in waves, with little bits of brightly colored thread woven into it. Her eyes were a piercing green, as brilliant as emeralds, and her skin was tanned and smooth with freckles dusting her cheeks and shoulders. She was beautiful, and I wondered how such a gorgeous person could've given birth to... well, I couldn't pretend to be ignorant of Quasi's unfortunate appearance. But he certainly got her eyes. That was the only resemblance I could see between them- their brilliant green eyes.

The next few photos showed her holding Quasi, teaching him how to walk, feeding him, and posing with him behind her guitar. And each one showed a change in her- I noticed that she was getting progressively less smiley, her eyes less bright, and her expression more tired. Though she was still beautiful, it was a kind of delicate, fragile beauty, like she was stretched thin and about to snap. It was sad to see her progression from happy, bubbly mother to a fragile shell of herself. No prizes for guessing who made that happen.

I handed the photos back as soon as I had looked at them- though I liked sharing Quasi's history with him, it was kind of bittersweet. He took them carefully, holding them with such care, as if they were made of glass instead of waxed paper. I watched him pull out a small leatherbound journal from his bag and slide the envelope in with the other ones, and my curiosity was immediately piqued. Ohh, a journal! That would be an interesting read...

No. Letters and photos were one things, but a journal was another. That was definitely private. Not that there were many secrets between us now, but still.

I didn't completely forget about the journal, but I did push it away to an obscure corner of my mind for a later date so that i could focus on the here and now.. Quasi wasn't going to say anything else, so i went back to my email, adding in a few questions prompted by the photos. Then I sent it and started on my neglected assignment.

Walking to our lockers before the last class of the day, I suggested that we skip it and go and record our song before anything else. He agreed with only minimal hesitation, and i reflected on the fact that before we became friends, he would never had agreed so easily to skip class. My bad influence was definitely rubbing off on him.

So we took advantage of the rushing crowds of teenagers that were on their way to their respective classes and disappeared out one of the side doors before any teachers could catch us.

"So what should we sing?" I asked as I got my recording program ready on my laptop. "I liked Babe. That one was beautiful."

Quasi plucked his guitar strings thoughtfully. "A-aren't we both singing?"

"Yeah. But we could change it up a bit, make it a duet."

"Maybe. Or perhaps the last one we did... The real duet?"

"Everything Has Changed?"

"Yeah, that one. I-I liked that one." He ducked his head, as if he was ashamed or embarrassed. "Y-you sang... um... well."

"Well? Really?" I smirked. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Nice. You sang nice." His face was the colour of his hair by this time. "It... sounded good."

"Wow, don't sound too enthusiastic, you might wear yourself out."

He looked at me helplessly, not knowing what to say next, and fidgited nervously with his guitar strings, and us much as I was actually enjoying this, I decided to take pity on him and help him out a bit.

"It's ok, Kaz, I know what you're trying to say. Thank you." I smiled at him and he ducked his head again. "You sounded good too. I think that's the right song. Do you remember how to play it?"

He nodded.

"Ok, well let's do a practice one first. You ready?"

He nodded again, and we started to play. Turned out I had forgetten a lot of the chords, so the first ten minutes was just him showing me how to play again and me copying him. When i had gotten the hang of it, we played it together, just humming the words, and decided we were ready.

So I set the program to record and we played with gusto. Though I had to lean into the microphone spot for it to actually pick up my voice, the song went off without a hitch, and after a little while i found my fingers moving on automatic. Instead of thinking about my playing, I was watching Quasi, the way his fingers held the strings and he closed his eyes and relaxed into the music and his voice just kind of flew around the room when he sang. The way music came naturally to him. And while I was watching him, I suppose it was coming naturally to me as well.

When we got to the bridge, he opened his eyes and held my gaze, and I smiled as our voices meshed together perfectly.

"Come back and tell me why

I'm feeling like I've missed you all this time...

Meet me there tonight,

and let me know that it's not all in my mind..."

As the song continued, we just kept watching each other, bobbing a little to the tune and grinning like idiots. And when we finished, we kept smiling, because we knew we had just made something special.

* * *

After saving the file and transferring it to my USB, we sat there waiting for the bell to ring and just talked. About my family, and how he would've liked to to have a sibling or two, and our hopes and wishes and plans for the future. Quasi, i found out, not only loved drawing but wood carving as well, and wanted to open up some kind of craft shop one day. He also wanted to try busking, but was way too self conscious.

"I think I'd like to travel," I commented dreamily, tracing circles on my laptop lid. "Places like Paris and Amsterdam and Venice, with lots of rich history and art and old buildings and awesome food. Maybe New York and Tokyo, too. All the fun places. And i want to write. Maybe fiction, maybe travel blogs, maybe fashion, I don't know. Just give me something with words."

"You should try."

"So should you," I returned with a smile. "I bet you'd be a hit in the city."

He shook his head. "I couldn't."

"You totally could. People would love you. Not everyone focuses on the outside, you know."

"But most do." He shrugged, suddenly very interested in his hands. "Besides, you'd be more of a hit than me."

"Me? No. You're way better."

"But you have the voice _and_ the..." he paused and gestured in my general direction. "The-the... looks."

"The looks? Wow, two compliments in one day. You're on a roll today." I said this teasing, but truthfully i was flattered.

"Y-yes, well..." He seemed to be lost for words, face slowly turning red again.

We chatted for a while longer, until the bell rang and i realized i had one more thing to do before i went home. So we grabbed our stuff and ran, and i let him follow me to the school library, where i returned a book and picked up about half a dozen more. Quasi offered to help me, but it wasn't until i nearly dropped my laptop trying to carry everything at once that i decided to let him. I was used to carrying all my own stuff, but it wouldn't kill me to ask for help every now and then. So I handed him most of the books without a word and we continued to our lockers.

"So, I'll drop off the USB tomorrow, and we should hear about our spot pretty soon." I pulled out my bag and stuffed everything in, slammed the door and waited patiently for him to unlock his own locker. "Once we know for sure, I'll figure out how to get you there without being caught. I already have some ideas, so you don't have to worry. Everything is going to work out fine." I glared at the crowds of students around me as someone accidentally jostled me into the lockers. "Hey man, how about watching where you're going?"

"Bite me!" came the rude reply as the random person moved away, and Quasi had to restrain me from going after them.

"Hey, calm down."

"I'm calm." I took a deep breath and smiled at him. "Sorry, I'm just a bit tightly strung at the moment." I didn't tell him why- that it was because of the pressure I was feeling to get everything right and help him out and try not to think about my own feelings while I did it. I didn't want him to feel guilty, or have him he owed me. And I sure as hell didn't want to make things awkward by taking about feelings that not even I was sure about. So I held my tongue and instead let him walk me to the school gate, wondering what the next stage in my plan was going to be.

* * *

_**Please review :)**_


	24. Something To You

_**Hiya readers! How are you all? Good I hope? **_

_**I was originally hoping to post this at christmas as a little present to you all, but that didn't happen. Neither did posting at New Years. So I'd like to wish you all a belated Happy Holidays and Happy New Year and I hope this chapter will make up for my slackness :)**_

_**Ok, so last chapter Mich looked at photos of Quasi's mum, they played basketball, and they recorded their audition song. This chapter, plans are made, we learn more about Quasi's mum, and Mich learns something about Quasi that makes her look at him differently. **_

_**Also, ANGST. **_

_**Also, I've finally written the scene I wanted to write. It didn't happen the way I thought it would, but it's pretty exciting. Like, a key part of the story that everyone was waiting for. It's happening, people. I'm actually very happy now :)**_

_**Ok, no more boring notes, lets get on with it.**_

* * *

I wanna chase the shadows from your eyes  
Because I understand  
I wanna shake the tea-leaves in your cup  
Until you see the plan  
And when you're stranded on your desert isle  
I'll be the footprints in your sand  
I wanna mean something to you  
To mean something to you  
I wanna mean something to you  
'Cause you mean, you mean something to me  
And when you're caught upon a stormy sea  
I wanna light the lamp  
I want you to see what you've given me  
And who I really am  
And it doesn't really matter  
If I'm your lover or your friend  
I wanna mean something to you

Mean Something To You- Jennifer Davids.

* * *

"So he can really sing?" Dez swung her clarinet case and nodded at my laptop, her skinny little nose wrinkled in disbelief. "That's really you and him?"

"Don't sound so surprised," I grumbled, looking behind me every few steps to make sure i didn't trip over. My laptop was balanced precariously on one outstretched arm, while the other held onto my bag strap. Walking backwards while carrying stuff isn't as easy as you would think, I can tell you now. "What, you think I recorded someone else to pass off as us? I'm serious about that concert spot, you know."

"You sound so beautiful together," Beck murmured, her eyes glazing over a little and a little smile stretching across her face. I had seen that look many times, particularly since she had gotten Tumblr. That was the 'OTP' look.

However, instead of getting frustrated and trying to talk her out of it, I simply smiled and nodded. "I know, right? I never thought I could sing that good."

"And you're handing that in today?" Emma toyed with her newly cut hair, twirling what used to be ombre ends around her dark finger. "You're serious about getting him up on that stage again?"

"Yep." I pulled out the USB and closed the lid as the music stopped and we reached the school gate. "I'm going to prove a point, Em. And make sweet music while doing it. I gotta go."

"Ok, see you later."

"Regroup in the art room, ok? We gotta talk strategy."

"Sure."

As my friends headed off, I tucked my computer under my arm and set off at a brisk jog towards the music classroom. I arrived out of breath and seriously wondering if i was going to have a heart attack, and had to take a moment outside the door to pull myself together. "Ugh, i really need to get back on that treadmill again..."

Once i was presentable again, i pushed the door open and peeked in; finding the room unoccupied except for Miss Basso at her desk stacking test papers, I knocked and walked inside. "Um, Miss Basso?"

She looked up and smiled, motioning for me to come closer. "Good morning! I take it that you have something for me?"

"I do indeed." I held out the USB stick. "The audition you requested- we recorded it yesterday."

"Ah, good." She took it and plugged it into her open computer. With a few clicks, the file was up and mine and Quasi's voices were playing for the second time that morning. Not know what to do with myself, i stood there awkwardly while she listened to the song, chin resting on her hands and gaze focused on a spot on her desk; until suddenly, about half way through, she stopped the recording and leaned back in her chair. "You're in."

"Wha...Already?" I spluttered, unprepared for such a definite answer.

"Yep. This is awesome. I have one recommendation, though- if you can, try to strengthen your voice a bit before the concert. Apart from that, everything's perfect. Well done. I'll leave you to pass the good news onto Quasimodo." She unplugged the USB and as she handed it over, added with an approving smile, "You make a beautiful couple, by the way. I'm very happy for you both."

Before I had a chance to deny her 'fantasy', the bell rung and she hurriedly went back to stacking papers, and I trailed out of the room with a faint 'thank you', still in shock from both the rapid acceptance and that comment, wondering if my face was a red as it felt.

* * *

The funny thing was, things like people assuming we were a couple no longer bothered me. It wasn't like I was ashamed, anyway. In my opinion, any girl would be lucky to have a boyfriend like him. So I didn't dwell on Miss Basso's assumptions; instead, i spent my time planning how to get Quasi to the concert. The girls would have to help, certainly. Dez was also part of the program, playing clarinet in the school orchestra, and we had already planned for her mum to take us girls in her car. Another passenger wouldn't be too much trouble, surely? Now that we had a confirmed position, i could ask.

And what of Frollo? How would we get Quasi out of the house without him knowing? Or, how would we make sure that his absence remained unnoticed?  
That was where Johanna came in.

"Ah, speak of the devil," I whispered as an email appeared in my inbox. I was supposes to be making a PowerPoint presentation for English class, but this was bound to be more interesting.

I skimmed through the email, reading about Quasi's mother, a beautiful woman named Emerald who was a bit of a hippy and loved her son more than anything in the world. He had been an unfortunate accident, his father unknown, his poor mother destitute, vulnerable and with no memory of his conception. Frollo was not his real father, but his stepfather, described by Emerald as an angel in their time of need. He had taken in the pregnant woman from the streets of Sydney, cared for her, apparently fallen in love and married her within 6 months of meeting her. Johanna had gotten to know her very well, and they has become fast friends. Then Quasimodo was born, and that's when everything changed.

I had to stop reading for a moment to let this new information sink in. It seemed every time Johanna and I talked, she dropped some new bombshell on me, and this was no different.

Frollo, not Quasi's real dad.

Frollo, capable of love.

Frollo, an angel.

It didn't really compute that the cold, violent, rage-and-alcohol-filled man i had seen was once a caring, loving person. It was just impossible to believe.

I eagerly read on. Once the baby was born, Frollo changed. He withdrew into himself and refused to help Emerald care for the child. Told her it was her responsibility and she would have to deal with it. So she did. She threw all her energy into caring for Quasimodo and loved every minute of it.

And then Frollo began to drink. He spent most of their money on alcohol and stopped supporting them. He became abusive and angry, and eventually violent. Emerald put up with it for as long as she could, but when he tried to harm Quasi she snapped. She took the child and left, intending to flee to some relatives in Melbourne.

She never made it.

The car was found wrapped around a power pole, Quasi screaming in the back seat. He was only three-and-a-half. Frollo became his legal guardian. And the rest is history.

I was enthralled, and I had to remind myself that these were real people i was reading about. This was real life. And i was involved now.

Now were the important answers i was looking for. I had asked what the ultimate outcome would be if i gave her the proof she needed to convict Frollo, and her answer was reassuring. He would be immediately taken into custody and Quasi would be removed from his care and given to foster parents if no relatives could be found, and in the meantime, Johanna would look after him.

This was good, but it meant i would have to wait until the concert to hand over the video. There hadn't been any incidents in the past few weeks, but that didn't mean something couldn't happen within the next 2 weeks. I was potentially subjecting Quasi to more violence instead of removing him immediately, all for my own selfish motives. I felt terrible.

Not terrible enough to reconsider, though.

And that made me feel even worse.

It was a vicious circle, and I delt with it the only way I could- by forgetting about it.

* * *

When lunch came around and i had everyone sitting around the table, i had it all worked out in my head.

"So basically Dez's mum will pick you up around 7, and Johanna will handle your d- Frollo." Now that i knew the truth, i couldn't called Frollo his dad anymore. It just didn't feel right. "Don't worry bout being found out, cuz Johanna will take care of it. You just make sure you don't catch a cold between now and then, and we'll take care of the rest."

Dez was nodding, and the others shrugged. Quasi was fidgeting as usual, and i was glad i hadn't told him exactly what would be happening to his dad that night. He didn't need that worry on top of everything else he was going through.

"Are there any questions?" I asked after a short silence.

"Nope." Dez shook her head cheerfully. "Mum should be ok with that. He only lives a few blocks away anyway, right?"

I nodded. "Which means I'll need to come home with you, so i can help him sneak out."

"Sounds good."

"What do you think?" I asked Quasi.

He tried to hide the fact the he was practically wringing his hands with nervousness, but he wasn't succeeding very well. "Oh, I-I think its fine. It's a good p-plan. I-It's just, I-I'm just not sure i can do this..."

"Hey..." I put my hand over his, stilling their incessant movement. Out of the corner of my eye i saw Beck sit up and take notice, but i ignored her and focused on Quasi. "You're ok. Nothing bad is going to happen. You have us. Its ok to be nervous, but never doubt you can do something. You'll be great. Just keep telling yourself that and you'll be right." Silence followed my mini pep-talk, and I patted his hand and stood up. "So, i guess we're done here. Who's for basketball?"

* * *

Later on, when the bell had rung and we were collecting our bags, i told everyone to go on and bent down to tie my shoe. The girls left and Quasi was about to too, but at the last minute he came back and crouched next to me, fidgeting nervously once again.  
"I just want to say thank you," he murmured, watching my hands fumble with the laces. "Thanks for everything. And also..." He paused, seeming to debate whether he should say the next thing. At length he shook his head . "No, never mind. Just... Thanks."

"You're welcome," I replied, a little baffled. "Are you ok?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine," he answered, a little quickly for my liking. He stood up, not meeting my eyes, and swung his bag onto his shoulder as he left. By the time I realized something had fallen out, he was gone, and I was late.

I picked it up on my way out and recognized it as the little leather journal i had seen the day before, the one he had put the photos in. I locked the door behind me and sprinted to the next building, hoping to catch him, but the hall was just about empty, so i went to class instead and, against my better judgment, opened the book.

Inside were the envelopes, which i put in my desk for safekeeping. The first few pages of the book were what looked like music theory, and then there were sketches, and then the serious stuff. Diary entries, years old, interspersed with poetry or lyrics, i couldn't decide which. It seemed he had been writing for a while, not much, but enough to fill most of the book. Some places, it was obvious that he was very young. One entry simply read, _I wish i could go play cricket on the street with the other kids. _Another read_, The people next door have a lot of fun. Father says I'm too ugly and scary to play with them, so I'll just stay in here and watch them._

Further on in the book was a poem, written in childish handwriting but very well done.

_Safe behind these windows and this house made of stone, _I read softly to myself_,_  
_Gazing at the people down below me_  
_All my life I watch them as I hide up here alone_  
_Hungry for the stories they show me_  
_All my life I memorize their faces_  
_Knowing them as they will never know me_  
_All my life I wonder how it feels to pass a day_  
_Not above them_  
_But part of them_

_And out there_  
_Living in the sun_  
_Give me one day out there_  
_All I ask is one_  
_To hold forever_

_Out there_  
_Where they all live unaware_  
_What I'd give_  
_What I'd dare_  
_Just to live one day out there._

For some reason this lonely little poem touched me so much that i found myself blinking away tears before moving on to the next page.

In other places of the book, where the dated diary entries became mire common than the poetry, his writing was so eloquent and so sad that i didn't want to put it down.

_12/09/11 _  
_Sometimes my heart hurts so much that i think its going to explode. And on days like this i wish the sadness would stop consuming me. And while my heart us exploding, i wish i would too. Because its all too much and i'm much too young to be feeling nothing and everything all at once._

Then a page of faces, each one smiling, with green eyes and flowing hair, and an accompanying page of writing.

_27/04/12_  
_Lately i have been thinking of my mother even more than usual. I cant remember much about her, just her eyes ans her music, and all i really know is what father has told me about her. But cant really believe that she was as bad as he makes out. _  
_Sometimes i can still hear her singing. I hear it in my dreams, where the only things i see are colors. The blues gone grey, and the browns gone grey and the yellow, a terrible amber. Everywhere, like rain. And sometimes there are people, so many people, who aren't her . And her absence is a gaping hole in my heart. I think i used to know what it feels like to be whole. But i never will now."_

Then pages and pages of unrecognizable patterns, swirls and circles and lines and jagged edges. None of them were random, but deliberately drawn, pattern over pattern until the white of the paper could hardly be seen over the thick pen strokes. Had he got tired of writing? Maybe. But further along was an almost empty page, undated, with one sentence.

_What did i do to deserve this?_

I almost shut the book right there. For some reason that little question made me realize exactly what i was doing. This wasn't just a diary. This was his soul i was reading. What right did i have to peer into his soul?

It then occurred to me that i had asked myself this question every single time I found something or heard something or wanted to know anything about my friend. And when i thought about it, usually the result of my prying had good results. I needed to stop doubting my rights.

So i read on. I heard nothing of the lesson, instead pretending to take notes while reading the book on my lap. When the teacher came around i slid it under the desk, and pulled it put again as soon as he passed. The writing was so deep, so sad, like Emeralds letters. They shared the same writing style, Quasi and his mother. It was beautiful. Well, until i found the next entry. Then all concepts of beauty left my head as i read through the carefully written paragraph, replaced instead with a heavy feeling of dread. It was dated a few months ago and ran like so:

_I have always been afraid to lose the people i care about. But it happens so often anyway- mother, Marcus, Alice. They all left. Maybe its all i deserve. But sometimes i cant help wondering if there's anyone out there afraid to lose me. It doesn't seem likely. And even if there were, it wouldn't make any difference. I would only tell them one thing: don't cry at my funeral, for i have been dead for a long time. I am only hanging onto this world by a thread, and i find myself becoming more curious about the other side of this endless abyss. One day, i may just let go._

I think i stared at that page for the longest time, not thinking, not doing anything, just staring, shocked, at a confession that i never thought id see from someone i knew. I wasn't unfamiliar with the concept of suicide - i knew of relatives on both sides of my family who had given up on life. But they were only stories, distant and very impersonal. i never knew any of them myself. This was right here, right now. This was someone i cared about, someone special, having thoughts about death, and i was laughably under-qualified to handle it. Not that i would know what to do anyway.

I felt hollow as I looked over one more page, just one sentence that read I'm just so tired. Then I shut the book, unable to deal with what I had just read. I had never felt so helpless and afraid in my life. There was literally nothing i could do about this, except be there for him. I couldn't talk to him or give him any advice or try to change anything, like i had been doing with everything else. This was out of my hands.

I tried to console myself by reasoning that the entries were written a little while ago. Maybe his mental state had changed since then? He certainly wasn't showing any signs of depression right now, though i knew that didn't mean much. But hopefully this was old. Hopefully everything i was doing now was enough.

Oh, how i hoped.

* * *

Getting the book back to him was easy enough. I couldn't just give it to him- I didn't want him to know I'd read it- so I waited for him at our lockers after school, pretending to organize everything until he came. Then it was just a matter of 'accidentally' bumping into him and causing him to drop some of his stuff, which i helped him pick up and slipped the little journal into the pile while i was at it. Then i said goodbye and reminded him to practice, and left almost immediately to wait for mum. I just couldn't face him, ashamed at having delved into his innermost thoughts, and afraid that now I knew how he felt, I would be able to see it in his face. I don't think I could've endured that.

* * *

The contents of the journal haunted me all afternoon. Through chores and homework and early dinner and more homework, even while watching Star Trek on my laptop and doing my maths assignment at the same time, it was always right in front of my mind. Especially those last words: _I'm just so tired_. They were the words that filled me with fear and horror, and if I hadn't been occupied most if the time, I probably would've burst into tears.

But at night, after finishing my homework surprisingly early, I relocated to the girls' playroom where I wouldn't disturb any sleeping children and practiced the song. But playing wasn't enough to still my worried, hyperactive brain. No matter how much I played, my mind kept going back to the horrible words that were branded on my memory. So I sang, softly, and tried to play along, but the words kept getting muddled and my fingers kept slipping and finally, with tears in my eyes, I gave up and went to bed.

But my trials didn't end there. Lying in bed, eyes on the clock, I watched the numbers switch with agonizing slowness. Hours ticked by. I tossed and turned, threw the covers off and pulled them up again, switched on some music for a while and turned it off again. Nothing worked. I just couldn't get my mind to settle down and let me sleep. I kept seeing all the depressing things Quasi had written and wondering how long ago he had written it, did he still feel that way, what could I do. And then, as I started to doze off around 1:30, another question wormed its way into my tired mind: If the unthinkable did happen, how would i live without him?

Come to think of it, how would I live without him when all the stuff went down with Frollo and Quasi was passed off to foster care?

Cuz that's what it was all about, wasn't it? That's why i wanted to wait as long as possible. Not to prove a point, but to keep him with me. How selfish! I knew the danger of keeping him in that environment, and still I dawdled in helping him. Why would i do that? Why did i fear losing him so much that it over-rid my desire to do the right thing?

_Cuz you're in love with him, stupid._

I sighed in defeat, knowing it to be true. I had ignored it for so long, distracted myself every time i came close to confronting my feelings, but there it was. The plain, unvarnished truth, laid bare before me. Nowhere to hide now. The fact of of the matter was that i loved him, and i had for a long time.

Oh dear. I definitely wouldn't be getting to sleep tonight, would I?

* * *

_**So how was that? I actually didn't mean to make the journal reading so angst-y and sad, but that's the way it happened. Trust me, this stuff is vital for a later part of the story.**_

_**And a revelation, finally! Yay! I hope I haven't strung this thing along too long, but i really do hate fast romances. And I know the scene is actually quite small, but I guess that's because I guess she's known she loves him for such a long time, and this is just finally admitting it to herself. No fanfare, no dramatic realizations. Just acknowledging something she already knew but didn't want to admit. Anyway, tell me what you thought. I think I did a decent job.**_

_**See you next chapter :)**_


	25. Confusion

**Being a grown-up sucks.**

**Sorry guys, I know I've taken way too long to update again, but i do have reasons that are too boring to talk about right now. So I'd just like to thank kamikaze-djali, karisdaae24601, LeslieTheSorceress, various guests and you other readers on Wattpad for your support and reviews.**

**Ok, so last chapter Mich found an angsty journal and finally realised her feelings for Quasi. This chapter is all about confusion. That's it.**

**No song this ****chapter, but I'd like to thank Leslie for suggesting 'Seventeen' from_ Heathers_ for the Kich theme song. It's perfect! I love it so much! **

**Anyway, hope you like :)**

* * *

To tell him or not to tell him...

Those were my first thoughts as i slowly regained consciousness the next morning. It turned out i had slept, but only just. Most of the night had taken up with disjointed thoughts about music and my pending situation.

Now i had admitted my feelings to myself, what would i do about it?

This question continued to bother me as i forced myself out of bed and tried to clear the mental fog that resulted from a lack of sleep, looking around for my uniform and socks like someone lost.

I would obviously have to tell the girls. They had been waiting long enough, and it would be cruel to leave them out of the loop now. I could probably expect a lot of teasing, but i guess I deserved it.

Would i tell Quasi? The very thought had my face burning and my heart tripping over itself. I didn't really need to, did I? There was no guarantee that he felt the same, and I didn't want to do anything that would affect the awesome friendship we already had. And if everything went the way i planned it, he'd be gone in a few weeks anyway. There was no point. It would be better if i just continued on like nothing had changed.

So i got ready for school, had breakfast and tried to look inconspicuous, wondering if my changed state of mind could be visible to my family. They didn't notice anything, thankfully, and i managed to get out the door without a hitch.

School was a different matter. The closer we got to the high school, the more nervous i became. When mum finally pulled up in front of the gates, my insides were twisting so much i honestly thought i was going to be sick. I hurriedly kissed her goodbye and jumped out, trying to take deep breaths and calm my racing heart before i met my friends. _This is ridiculous. Its only the girls. Chill out. It's not like you're going to tell Quasi. Its only your friends. And you're tellung them something they know anyway._

With a gulp, I hoisted my bag on my shoulder, spied my friends in among the hundreds of students that covered the campus and raced throught the gates to join them.

After exchanging pleasantries, I took a deep breath and just decided to go for it. "You guys, I have something to say."

They looked at me expectantly.

I was already losing my nerve, but i forced myself to go on. "It's taken a while, but I did a lot of thinking last night and I... Well, I... God this is stupid!" I burst out, followed by a humourless laugh. "I mean, you already know what I'm going to say, but i still can't say it. Ugh, ok." I gripped my bag strap tightly and willed myself to stop being such an idiot. During my speech, Bex had gotten to the point where she was practically jumping up and down in excitement. At my pause, she opened her mouth to say something, but only managed a squeaky "You...!" before Em clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her. Meanwhile, she and Dez had been watching me attentively, waiting for me to hurry up already, and so I gritted my teeth and got on with it.

"So basically, what i want to say is that you were right. All of you were right, and i can't believe i couldn't see it until now. The fact is, I am... in love with Quasimodo." This last bit was said quickly, with a glance around to see if anybody else heard. No-one had, and i braced myself for the inevitable reactions on my friends.

Em rolled her eyes and muttered "Finally" under her breath, but she couldnt stop the smile from streching across her face, though she tried her best to hide it.

Bex, on the other hand, grabbed me as soon as the words left my mouth and smothered me in a tight hug, and i patiently put up with a mouthful of frizzy orange hair and shrieking in my ear for a about a minute before i pushed her away, needing to breathe.

Dez just laughed at us and patted my shoulder while i recovered from the death hug. "It's about time, you big idiot."

"I know," I sighed, massaging my shoulder, "but I've just been too afraid to admit it. Everything's just been crazy busy lately and i didnt want to make things complicated."

Bex clasped her hands together. "So when are you gonna tell him?"

I pulled a face. "Is that really necessary?"

She stared at me. "You're kidding me, right?"

"There's no point," I protested at their shocked expressions. "I have it on very good authority that he'll probably be moving after school finishes, and besides, if it turns out he doesn't feel the same, it would just make things awkward. I just want to enjoy the rest of our time together without anything getting in the way."

"There's no way he doesn't feel the same!" Bex exclaimed. "You can't just not tell him!"

My stomach did a little flip at her words, but I stood firm. "I'm not going to say anything. I don't want to risk losing everything I've worked hard to build between us. It's too important to me."

"But you won't lose him! Don't you understand? I'm certain he likes you as much as you like him- you just need a little push-"

"No pushing." I held her gaze, trying to look stern. "I don't want you to do anything, ok? Just leave it. He'll be gone in a few weeks, and then it won't matter anymore. Don't you dare get involved."

"But-"

"Bex..."

She huffed noisily and crossed her arms. "Fine."

"Thank you." I breathed out, feeling relief spread through me. "And that goes for you guys too. Just... leave it. I'm happy the way we are, really i am."

"Well, as long as you're happy..." Dez looped her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. "I'm happy for you, even if you're too scared to do anything about it."

I swatted at her playfully and pulled away as the bell rang. "Scared, me?"

"Only always!" she called cheekily as she headed away to class, chestnut ponytail swinging madly behind her.

Bex gave me a grin and ran after her, leaving me with Em. As we turned and began to follow the crowds of students into the main building, she nudged me lightly and inclined her head in my direction. "So, was it his beautiful voice or soulful eyes that made you finally realise your feelings for him?"

"Neither. Well, they certainly helped." I grinned, then sobered quickly as i remembered my revelation last night. "It was something completely different, actually. I can't really tell you much, because it's pretty personal stuff, but I'm involved in... let's just say, 'improving the quality of his life'. If everything goes well, he'll be safe and sound and probably very far away when school finishes, but I've been resisting helping in him in any meaningful way for a while. I've only just realised why, and it's because... well, because i dont want to lose him. The idea of going back to my normal routine, going back to school without him, it just..." I wrapped my arms around myself as we stopped at her locker, suddenly unable to talk through the aching lump in my throat.

"It scares you," she finished for me, quickly throwing in her bag and grabbing the books she needed. "You've gotten used to him, and now he's leaving."  
I nodded, looking at the ground, oblivious to the other students rushing around me.

Em slammed her door and started walking towards my locker. "Then wouldn't it make sense for you to tell him before it's too late? At least get some closure, find out if he feels the same. He's leaving, Mich. Are you really going to let him go without telling him the truth?"

"I don't know," I murmured, my head feeling like a tangled mess of spagetti. I was so confused now. On the one hand, Em sounded perfectly logical, and i couldn't agree with her more. On the other hand, fear was trying to override the logic centres of my brain.

"Look, i have to go," she said, glancing at her ipod, and i noticed that the hallway was starting to empty. I was probably going to be late, not that it mattered to me anymore. "Think about it. I'll see you later."

I nodded and continued on to my locker, not in any hurry to get to class. What was school when i had such a dilemma in front of me?

_God, love is stupid_.

* * *

I only just survived first period, barely paying attention to the lessons at all. My English teacher was a particularly cruel woman who took delight in singling people out to embarress them, and when she saw that i was preoccupied and thus called on me, i only just managed to scrape through by the skin of my teeth. Thank God it was English, something I was actually partly good at, and not maths.

The fact was, the more I thought about it, the more worried I became that the girls, Bex in particular, would take matters into their own hands with regards to mine and Quasi's relationship. I wasn't exactly sure what they would do, short of actually pushing us together and demanding that we kiss, but knowing Bex and her almost aggressively romantic side, I wouldn't put anything past her. So I became more and more apprehensive as the morning wore on, both of my friends doing something mortifying, and of actually seeing Quasi that lunchtime. I was terrified that i would say or do something that would wreck everything that i had worked to create with him- not that i thought he would push me away, but i didnt want to make things awkward between us, not when we had just worked everything out and forged such a close bond.

Then there was the other possibility- that he actually returned my feelings. That thought was actually more terrifying than the first one. It felt like such a long time since i had been in a situation like that, whether it had been real or not, and now i had become so sure that i was better off by myself that the idea that someone could actually like me like that was difficult to get my head around. And then there was the extra situation of his leaving. I was sure everthing would work out. His chance for a better life was just around the corner. I didn't want to make the goodbye any more painful than it was already going to be.

By lunchtime, i felt like two sides of my mind were at war with each other. One side, which had taken on Em's voice, was arguing that i should just tell him and get it over with, and the other side was listing all the reasons that i shouldn't. Meanwhile, my heart was equal parts desire to find out if he liked me back and fear that he wouldn't, or worse, that he would. It couldn't quite decide which answer was scarier.

It felt like there was an entire highschool TV drama going on inside me, and it wasn't going to let up any time soon.

For once, the lunch bell wasn't a sound that I was looking forward to that day. Nevertheless, class ended, the bell rang, and i dragged my feet to my locker and then out the doors toward the art block. Maybe it was my dawdling that helped me answer my own question of whether the girls would get involved, because while i was contemplating just ditching everyone and going to mope by myself, I saw Quasi and Bex emerge from another building, deep in conversation.I stopped, my heartrate speeding up as i contemplated my next move. Bex was almost definitely telling him everything, despite my express order not to. What else would she be talking to him about? It wasn't like she or the other girls were usually very talkative with him. So what would i do, apart from killing the traitor?

I was only half joking at this point.

I couldn't ditch, i decided. If i was right and he knew everything, how would that make him feel? Like I was possibly ashamed of my feelings? I didn't want that. Plus, there was a side of me that just couldn't wait any longer to be in his presence, despite all my fears. I would just have to hope that he would be too nervous or embarrassed to bring it up. Maybe if i acted like nothing had changed, he would even dismiss it as Bex trying to set us up and nothing more.

_Ugh, just get over there would you?_

I took a deep breath and forced my legs to move again. During my internal conflict, Bex had finished betraying me and left with a skip and a jump, and i watched her jog away with a defeated feeling. How could she be so happy after just possibly ruining my life? Had she no shame?

_Shut up and get this over with._

Bracing myself, i smiled at Quasi, who was waiting for me outside, and let us into the room.

"So, should we practice?" I asked, willing my voice to stay steady. I didn't look at him, for fear that he would be able to read the truth in my face; instead i inclined my head in his general direction and hoped he wouldn't think i was avoiding him. Which i was. But i didn't want him to know that.

He nodded and set himself up at the large desk, and i retrieved both our guitars from their corner and handed his over. We went through our little routine- eating a few bites, tuning our guitars, getting up my sheet music on my laptop- like we always did, but today it felt... tense, i suppose, though whether I was just projecting or it was actually weird between us, i wasn't sure. Actually, I wasn't sure of anything anymore. My paranoid mind was taking me round in circles. Is he normally this quiet? What did Bex said to him? What is he thinking? Should I say something?

We started to play when we were ready, and i tried to immerse myself in the song, really listening to his playing and fitting mine in around it. Once i was confident, i started singing quietly, and before I knew it, we had finished.

"Good." I took another bite of my sandwich and cleared my throat. "Should we both sing this time? You have the second verse and then we share the rest of the song."

"Ok." His voice was almost silent, and i wondered if now was the time to say something. Should I ask what Bex said to him? I shook my head and started playing again, counting beats and hearing the song in my head. I started to sing, but when I got halfway through the first verse, my voice died away, because suddenly I was hearing the words properly and I realised that I couldn't sing it with him, not now. I couldn't sing a love song that sounded just like us and pretend that nothing was different.

"I-I'm sorry." I coughed, hoping he'd believe my excuse. "My throat is a bit sore. Maybe we can try again later."

"Ok."

He was definitely distracted, i could tell. But i wasn't ready to question him yet. So i put some music on instead, and after a moment, Quasi got out his journal.

The sight of that book brought my thoughts to a screeching halt. I had completely forgotten about the things i had read yesterday. That was another thing that i desperately wanted to ask him about, but I couldn't. I felt like I was back to square one, deadly curious and too afraid to ask questions for fear that he would push me away. All that progress we had made, and now look where we were.

I sighed and pulled out my own journal to copy my latest stories into a document. Out of the corner of my eye i could see Quasi flipping through pages and pages until he found one particular page, and after reading it through he closed the book and laid it on the table. I tried to focus on my typing, but my eyes were drawn to the journal and now i was thinking back to yesterday, when he randomly thanked me. Could that have been some kind of hint? A goodbye? _Oh god_. What if he was planning to kill himself? I didnt know how long ago those things were written; they could've been written ages ago. But for all i knew, it could've been a few days ago and this could be the last time i see him.

What could I do?

I flexed my fingers and stared at the screen, my chest feeling heavy. I was afraid, terribly afraid, trying to decide whether to risk talking to him or not. I knew nothing about depression or how suicidal thoughts worked. What if i said the wrong thing and precipitated it? How would i live with myself?

While these unsettling thoughts were rushing through my mind, i heard Quasi shift in his chair, take a deep breath and slide the journal across the table. I looked over at him and noted how his lips were set in firm resolution, determined to do whatever he was going to do, though his eyes betrayed him. They were fearful, worried, as if scared of my reaction. The hand around the book was holding it tightly, so tightly that his knuckles were white, and he sat stiffly in his chair. He just looked so uncomfortable and afraid, and it took all i had to not jump up and hug him and tell him that it would be alright, that he would get through whatever he was going through. But I didn't.

He looked at the book that was clutched tighly in his hand and cleared his throat. "There's, uh, s-something i want to say. I-It's in this book, actually. Its very, um, very important. I n-need your opinion."

What?

He could only be referring to his own depressed entries. Was he asking for my advice? Did he want me to help him get through it?

_Be fair, that's pretty much what you've been doing for him anyway._

This was a ridiculous coincidence, since i had been wanting to talk to him about it anyway.

He let go of the book reluctantly and gave it a little push towards me, his hands returning to his lap to fidgit incessantly. His eyes refused to meet mine, staying fixed on the floor somewhere near my left shoe, and he seemed to be having trouble getting the words out. "I-It's at the end. Y-you sh-should, uh, read it."

"I already did." The words were out before i could stop them. Kicking myself, I added, "It fell out of your bag. I didn't mean to."

His eyes widened and briefly raised to meet mine before looking away again. "Oh... Well, uh..."

"Can i just ask: is it recent, what you wrote?" I had to know.

"Yes, I-I guess so."

"Oh, Kaz." I moved my chair closer and tried to meet his eyes. "I'm so sorry you feel that way. I swear i had no idea... I thought you were happy! I mean, as happy as you could be under the circumstances... I thought i was helping, but it obviously wasn't enough." I took his large hands in mine, ignoring the butterflies that started up when i did so, barely noticing the way his expression was changing while i tried to think of a way to help. "If you want my advice, I'd say try to forget it. I know that's probably a really hard thing to ask, but forget about those feelings and focus on the good stuff. Focus on our friendship, and playing music, and art, and-" I stopped, finally noticing that something was wrong. He seemed to have deflated, and to say his expression was dejected would be the understatement of the year. He looked so disappointed and heartbroken, like i had just torn up one of his pictures or broken his guitar or something as equally horrible. Puzzled, i squeezed his limp hands, trying to be conforting. "Hey, did I say something wrong? I'm really sorry..."

He shook his head and pulled away from me. "N-no, it's fine." Pushing his chair away, he stood up and headed for the door, his voice shaky. "I-I'm sorry. I should've known better."

I stood too, now thoroughly confused as to what exactly was going on. "Wait, what?"

"I understand. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. I'll go now." And he did. He opened the door and just walked out without any explanation, leaving me standing there, wondering what the hell just happened.

I looked around helplessly, as if there was someone in the room who could help me. But it was just me and the dust. That was weird. Obviously there was more going on than the stuff i had read. I thought he had wanted me to tell him what to do with his suicidal feelings, but it seemed like he was talking about something completely different. I glanced at the table, where the dramatic little journal still rested, and hesitantly reached for it. I was definitely missing something, and it appeared that whatever it was was inside.

I flipped it open and began quickly turning pages, glancing over what i had already read in search of something different. Art and words flashed across the pages, until i reached the place i had stopped reading and found only blank pages afterwards. Frowning, i turned a few more pages and... there it was. A whole section that i had missed. The answer had to be here.

I checked my watch, noting that i still had about 20 minutes before classes started again, and got to reading.

These new entries had a different kind of feeling to them. I scanned the pages quickly, little phrases jumping out at me from the short paragraphs.

_I think something is different. Not the bullying. The bullying stays the same everywhere, but there are two people who don't treat me like they do. I shouldn't let myself get used to it, but it's hard not to get a little bit hopeful that this might last a little longer than the others did._

Was he talking about me and Esme? Probably. This must've been at the very beginning, which meant that the previous stuff was old. I sighed with relief. Thank God.

_Every time i try to write about the most exciting thing thats ever happened to me, i can't find the right words. She's so beautiful and amazing, how can she possibly be interested in someone like me?_

Well that was definitely Esme. Flattering and flirting and convincing him that he was loved for once, only to bring him down further than he had been before.

The next page was just three words, messily written and faintly stained with green: S_he was right_. That was probably just after the Halloween Dance. He had never admitted his mistake to me until much later, probably too mortified, but seeing it written down was relieving. At least he wasn't stupid, although arguably, not listening to my warnings or even considering them was pretty dumb. But love, or at least infatuation, was pretty good at clouding the mind. I knew that from experience.

The next few pages had been torn out, going by the jagged bits still attached inside. Ranting over how unfair life was? Quite possibly. I knew from the earlier thoughts about death that he could get dramatic enough.

_It's started. The real stuff has started. Maybe they just needed a leader._

_Just as i thought it was getting too hard to take, she stepped in. I can't believe it. No-one has ever done this before. _

_Perhaps she is as insincere as Esme, but for the moment she is kind, and friendly, and very protective, and what's more, she BELIEVES in me. It's confusing. I want to cling to the faint hope that i still have despite everything, but there is so much against it. She can't possibly be sincere, can she?_

_For now, i am eternally grateful that the beatings at school have stopped._

_I think she wants to help me take my mind off all of this. She visited me the other day, and organised for me to teach her how to play guitar. I can take a hint now. Enough feeling sorry for myself. Now i have something to do._

The 'she' in all this was me, obviously. I found it curious that he didn't use my name, but then how important was it? He knew who he was talking about, and that's all that mattered. The vain part of me was thrilled to see him writing about me, but i still hadn't found the important bit that he had wanted me to read.

A few pages of doodles followed the entries before they began again. I wasn't sure what it was, but i had a feeling that a lot of time had passed during those drawings. The writing on the next few pages looked fresher than in the rest of the book. It could only have been added to in the last few weeks.

_I'm trying to stay above it, but she doesn't make it easy._

Above what? I immediately started to worry. Assuming he meant me, what was i doing wrong? The next few were equally puzzling.

_I keep telling myself to not even think about it. I should know better, considering what happened with the others. But it's so hard._

_I keep waiting for her to reveal herself, but she doesn't. She just keeps on trying to help, even with the stuff that's way out of her league._

_Perhaps i need to be more trusting. But i need to figure out how to separate trusting from caring._

_I think it's too late. The damage has been done. I have already fallen. Where do I go on from here? _

What was he talking about? He couldn't possibly mean me anymore. He was probably referring to Johanna. Maybe it was hard to believe for him that a family member could be a friend, or even nice. I didn't know. This was becoming confusing, and it seemed he meant to confuse me even more with the next page.

_So many times out here_

_I've watched a happy pair_

_Of lovers walking in the night_

_They had a kind of glow around them_

_It almost looked like heaven's light_

_I knew I'd never know_

_That warm and loving glow_

_Though I might wish with all my might_

_No face as hideous as my face_

_Was ever meant for heaven's light_

_But suddenly an angel has smiled at me_

_And kissed my cheek without a trace of fright_

_I dare to dream that she_

_Might even care for me_

_And as I write these words tonight_

_My cold dark bedroom seems so bright_

_I swear it must be heaven's light._

I found myself smiling at the sweetness of the poem as i read it, but when i finished the smile dropped off as i tried to make sense of it. This wasn't Johanna. And it couldn't possibly be me. Could it?

But he didn't really know anyone else besides me and my friends, and surely he didn't know any of them well enough to write this about them. That just left me. Me! But it couldn't be, surely?

But it could. The two sides of me were getting ready to argue again, but only one thing needed to be said.

I had kissed him on the cheek.

Days ago, it felt like weeks, but days ago i had kissed him on the cheek on an impulse. Just to make him feel better. And now this poem. Was this what he had wanted me to see? But surely... Did that mean...

I stepped backwards and just about fell into the chair, mind racing. I had made a terrible mistake. Quasi hadn't wanted a pep talk, he was trying to confess his feelings! And I had told him to work through it and focus on other things- from his point of view, a rejection. I had to fix it.

I grabbed my laptop and bag, stuffed the journal in, and raced out the door, not bothering to lock it behind me. I could always come back later. Right now, in what seemed to be a regular thing, I had to find Quasi.

* * *

But where? Class was about to start again, and once I checked the unisex toilets where we had gone once before, i was stuck. The school was huge. There were probably numerous hiding spots that i didn't know about. I was desperate enough to check the boys bathroom, but after that, what?

Students were lining up to use the amenities, so I couldn't go in myself. Instead I asked a younger guy if he could go in and find out if Quasi was in there. He reported negative.

Great. What was i supposed to do now?

The bell rang then, adding insult to injury and reminding me of my mistake. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to evade my responsibilities like a boss. I wanted to drown my sorrows in cake and fanfiction. I wanted to cry.

Instead i obeyed the bell and went to class, bypassing the lockers and dumping everything at the foot of my desk. It occured to me then that Quasi may not have been hiding, but in class as usual. Like it made a difference. I still couldn't find him. I slumped over my desk and buried my face in my arms, not caring if anyone saw. _Maybe i shouldn't even bother. Maybe we should pull out of the concert and have nothing more to do with each other. Anything would be easier than this. Its not really important, is it? I've survived a broken heart before, and i can do it again. Maybe i should just stop trying._

A light bump to my shoulder stirred me out of my deep melancholy, and i looked up to see Phoebus dropping a folder on the teacher's desk before walking past and dropping into the chair next to me. "What happened?"

I scowled at him. "You're not in this class."

"Really? I didn't realise."

"Go away."

"You're never upset in public. What happened?"

Whatever. It's not like there's any harm in telling him. "I did something stupid, and i don't know how to fix it."

Phoebus leaned towards me, blonde hair falling everywhere. "Tell me what it is and I'll tell you where he is."

I sat up a bit straighter, now paying attention. "You've seen him?"

"Yeah, like 5 minutes ago. The most miserable thing I've ever seen. What did you do to the poor dude?"

"Asks the guy who almost killed him a few months ago."

"It wasn't that bad!" he protested.

I looked around, seeing that the room was nearly full and the teacher would be arriving any second. "Fine, whatever. Basically, i rejected him cuz i thought he was saying something else, and now everything is ruined forever."

"I take it you didn't mean to reject him, then?"

I glanced at him, quirking one eyebrow. "I think you already knew that. It seems every single person in this school knew what was happening between us before we did."

He sighed, exasperated. "Go and find him, idiot. He's in the library."

"But what do i say?"

"Honestly, you girls are hopeless with this stuff. Say whatever you want. You love him, don't you?"

I just smiled like an idiot, which i guess he took as an answer.

"Then tell him. Simple as that."

I shook my head in mock wonder. "How did a heartbreaking jerk like you become so wise?"

He tapped his head. "It's just a gift of mine."

We both laughed and stood up as the kid who usually sat next to me came to reclame his seat, and I followed him out of the room and down the hallway, where we parted ways.

* * *

**Sooo, whatcha think? Will Mich woman up and confront Quasi? What did the meddling Bex say to him? Will everything turn out alright? **

**Also, isn't 1989 the bestest?**

**Thanks for reading. Leave a review? **

**And look out for some warm fuzzies next chapter :D**


	26. Jump Then Fall

_**Nothing much to say, except sorry for the slow update and i hope this makes up for it. I'd like to thank kamikaze-djali and my friends on Wattpad for your continual support, and don't worry, I think I've delivered. This is just a light, fluffy chapter that i had a lot of fun writing. Love y'all for reading :)**_

* * *

_I like the way your hair falls in your face_  
_You got the keys to me_  
_I love each freckle on your face, oh_  
_I've never been so wrapped up, honey_  
_I like the way you're everything I ever wanted_

_I had time to think it all over_  
_And all I can say is come closer_  
_Take a deep breath then jump then fall into me_  
_Cause Every time you smile, I smile_  
_And every time you shine, I'll shine for you_

_Whoa, oh, I'm feeling you baby_  
_Don't be afraid to_  
_Jump then fall_  
_Jump then fall into me_  
_Be there, never gonna leave you_  
_Say that you wanna be with me too_  
_So I'mma stay through it all_

_So jump then fall._

_Jump Then Fall- Taylor Swift._

* * *

My footsteps echoed through the empty hallway as I passed classroom after classroom full of students who were actually where they were supposed to be, trying not to look suspicious. A lone student wandering the hallways just after classes had started- not suspicious, nothing to worry about, just keep teaching, don't look over...

I somehow made it to the doors without anyone seeing me and let myself outside, wondering whether i should walk or run across the oval to the library. If i ran, i would get there faster, but i risked drawing more attention to myself. But then if i walked, there would be more time for someone to see me. Maybe if i just casually strolled like i was supposed to be there, no-one would think anything of it.

I was putting way to much thought into this, i knew, but my mind was a wreck and i hardly knew what i was doing anymore. My talk with Phoebus had gotten me out of the classroom, but my determination had quickly turned to jitters in the face of what i was (hopefully) about to do, and now my brain was working itself into a bowl of spagetti trying to figure out the best way to get to the library, let alone what i was going to actually say to him when i got there.

To say i was nervous would be the understatement of the century. Try terrified. I had never done this before, and the idea of opening my heart to the person i cared about the most was enough to set free cages and cages of butterflies, whether he felt the same way or not. Actually, scratch butterflies. At this point i was feeling the whole zoo.

But it had to be done. The happiness of both of us was hanging in the balance of my confessing. Though i would probably get over it in time, and we only had about 2 weeks left together if everything went well, i had a feeling i would be added to a long list of people who had deserted and/or rejected Quasi in his sad life if i turned back now, and that was something i just couldn't handle. Bad things could happen if Quasi was that unhappy for too long.

No, i had to do this. There was nothing else to it.

I scrunched my hands into fists and set out across the grounds in a beeline for the library.

It wasn't until i was at the door that i started to panic, really panic. I could feel my nails cutting into my palms and my heart beating hard enought to jump out of my chest, and i was halfway between suffocating and hyperventilating. Was i going to pass out? God i hope not. Lying here in front of the library would be a good look. I took a moment to breathe, wrapping my arms around myself and leaning against the cool brick wall, trying to calm down a bit and gather my thoughts together. This shouldn't be too hard, really. I just had to go in, apologise, and tell him the truth. That was all. Then we could both be happy and this horrible mess could be cleared up. Easy-peasy, right?

I took several deep breaths, swung my arms around to loosen up my tight shoulders, and tried to stay relaxed as i walked through the door. I can do this. I can do this.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" I froze as the librarian looked up suspiciously from her computer, then forced a calm smile.

"I was sent to find a book, The Gold Rush? Big thick one, red and gold cover. I have to bring it back to class," I lied easily, willing my hands not to fidgit and my feet to stay still.

The woman at the desk nodded briskly. "Do you need help finding it?"

"No, I can do it, thanks." I flashed her one more smile and quickly stepped away, wondering where exactly Quasi would be hiding. The library was pretty much a large open room with no hidey holes, only the bookshelves providing spaces out of sight. I slowly walked through the room and peeked around the first long corridor of books. The assistant librarian was rearranging books on the bottom shelf, but no Quasi. I looked around the next one. Nothing. I peeked around the next few corridors to find nothing but musty air and old books, and finally decided to just skip to the end. If i was hiding, i would try to be as far away from people as possible. It only went to follow...

And there he was.

Sitting at the very end of the corridor, leaning against the wall with his head in his hands, sat Quasimodo, looking every inch the miserable, dejected child Phoebus had said. I stepped into the corridor and walked slowly towards him, suddenly realising that i still didn't know what i was saying. I hadn't rehearsed this at all. But there was no going back now. I was nearly there.

Oh god. Here goes.

I sat down next to him and cleared my throat. He jumped about a foot and gasped at seeing me, eye wide.

"Hey." I smiled weakly, looking at his mouth instead of his eyes so i could focus on what i wanted to say. "Um, I'm sorry about what happened. This whole thing has been a giant misunderstanding."

He looked away, ears turning a lovely shade of pink. "Y-y-you d-don't have to ap-pologise. I understand. I-It was my fault."

"No, actually, it was my fault. I got it all wrong and i have to fix it now."

"You d-don't have to t-try and make me feel better. I'm f-fine. I respect your f-feelings and I'm s-sorry if I m-made you uncomfortable. I think i already knew what you were going to say, anyway, so don't worry ab-"

"Would you just listen for a minute?" I interrupted, the lump in my throat making it hard to talk. "I was scared, ok? I read the wrong part of the book and i was just so scared and i didn't know what to do..." I covered my face with my hands as tears pricked the edges of my vision, trying to keep it together. "I got it all wrong, I'm sorry, i never meant to hurt you..."

"W-what are you scared of?" His tone almost made me laugh, for it asked more than his question did. I was tough, protective, strong in his eyes. What could i possibly be scared of?

"Everything. I'm scared of everything." I gulped and squeezed my eyes shut, realising that it was now or never. "I'm scared of what I've seen, what I've done, who i am now. I'm scared of losing you. I'm scared because you mean more to me than any other person. And most of all, I'm scared of walking out of here and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way i feel when I'm with you." I slowly opened one eye and took a peek at his face, trying to gauge his reaction over the sound of the blood rushing in my ears. "Do you... Do you underatand what I'm trying to say?"

He looked so confused, the poor guy. He looked like he didn't know how to feel about this new development. "I-I don't... I-I mean... Y-you mean..."

I sighed and shook my head. "Well, I don't know how to make it any simpler than this." And then all premeditated thought went out the window as i leaned over, turned his face towards me and pressed my lips to his.

It was a chaste kiss, the only thing i knew due to my relatively complete inexperience with romance, but all the same it made my stomach flip and my toes tingle. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days and days felt like years, and when i pulled away i think my sense of time had flown out the window with the premeditated thought, because his gaze caught mine and we just stared into each others eyes for i don't know how long. My head was spinning and his eyes were so deep and green and I was just smiling, not saying anything because he finally understood and i was happier than i had been in a long time.

His face had now caught up with his ears and was nearly the colour of his hair, and as he let out a deep breath i realised he had stopped breathing sometime before. "Ah... Um..."

"So do you understand now?" I asked softly.

He nodded vigorously and though i could see his eyes were starting to shine with moisture, his lips were turned up in a shy little smile. "Would you... ah... Would you d-do that again?"

I giggled and pulled him closer again, all too happy to oblige. He turned to face me properly and flailed for a moment, not knowing what to do with his hands, until he settled them on my waist and we spent the next little while in blissful silence.

* * *

Eventually, the bell rang to signal end of class and we reluctantly decided it was time to reemerge into real life. We walked hand in hand past the confused librarian and across the oval, heading towards our lockers. I couldn't remember what class we had next, but when i opened my door i realised that i had left my bag in English, and unless i wanted to be late, i would have to just wing it.

"Where are we going now?" I asked, leaning up against my locker to watch Quasi get his stuff out.

"Um... I think it's music. What day is it?" He rumaged around in his bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper: his timetable. "Yeah, it's music. We better go."

"Thank god. I'll have to share with you. My stuff is... elsewhere."

He nodded and flashed me tiny grin, and i reached for his hand again, not caring what the people around us thought. I could already hear the whispers starting, but i just smiled and held my head high. Apparently we'd been dating for months anyway, so it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise to anyone. I wasn't afraid. I was going to enjoy this for as long as i could.

Sharing a computer in music, working on our last music assignment for the year, i could feel Miss Basso's eyes on us and self-consciously scooted closer to Quasi, who kept glancing at me when he thought i wouldn't notice. I caught him next time he did it, quirking an eyebrow at his embarrassed look, and he just blushed and looked away.

He walked with me all the way to English class after school to retrieve my bag and i waited for him at our lockers while he got ready to go, unwilling to leave yet. I felt like we still had so much to talk about, even though the most important things had been said. Hand in hand, we strolled slowly out to his little waiting area, trying to slow time down for just a little while longer, but finally, when I could see mum's car throught the trees, pulling into the carpark on the other side, I gave his hand a squeeze and reluctantly pulled away. "I have to go. See you tomorrow, huh?"

"Ok." He looked around and started to say something, but then stopped.

I took a few steps back and fiddled with my bag strap, heart speeding up again as i met his eyes. "I... I-I love you." Just being able to say those words gave me a thrill that i couldn't describe.

Quasi, for his part, looked so happy he could burst. In fact it reminded me of a line i had read in Pride and Prejudice once: 'Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him...' I had always loved that passage, and now I could actually understand it, because just looking at Quasi and his reaction to my words made me realise how beautiful he really was.

"I, uh, I l-love you, too," he answered softly, eyes shining with barely-concealed glee. Despite his nervous posture, his words were deliberate and delivered with complete certainty. He loved me.

I wanted to stay there, forever losing myself in every little attractive quality i found in him, but mum was waiting and it was getting late, and Frollo might arrive any minute, so I skipped over and kissed his cheek, muttered a goodbye in his ear, and took off back inside, leaving him alone to reflect on what had happened.

Running through the building and out the doors towards the carpark, i felt like i was flying. Everything had turned out much better than i thought it ever could. He loved me. He really did. And i could finally admit that i loved him. Nothing in the world could bring me down now.

* * *

"So what did you actually tell him?" I asked Bex on ooVoo that evening. We had just figured out how to use the video call app, and all four of us were attempting to do our homework together. 'Attempting' being the key word. Currently, mine and Quasi's changed relatinship was the only thing anyone could talk about. "I saw you talking to him before- after i expressly told you not to, i might add. What did you think you were doing?"

"Oh, that..." Bex had the good grace to look ashamed, at least. "I'm sorry, i couldn't help myself. You just seemed so sad and i wanted to help you both. So, i asked him if he liked you."

"You what?!" I glared at the little windows where Dez and Em's faces could be seen. "Were you two in on this?"

"Well... I knew about it." Em shrugged. "She told me, and i let her. I figured nothing bad could come of it."

Dez put her hands up in mock defense. "I knew nothing."

"So what happened?"

"Well..." Bex grinned at the memory. "I managed to force the truth out of him at last, and i strongly suggested that he tell you. He didn't think you would reciprocate, and I didn't say anything about your feelings, but i did say he might be surprised at your reaction. And it turned out well in the end, right?"

"Yeah... Eventually." I had told them what had happened down to the letter, so they were now very well informed. "I guess i can thank you for that, then. All of you. I don't think any of this would've happened without your prompting."

"Yeah, well, what are friends for?"

"Getting each other boyfriends, apparently."

"Hmf." Em shook her head. "I'll get my own boyfriend, thank you very much. No offence, but your taste in guys and mine are very different."

I yawned and stretched, raising an eyebrow at the camera. "None taken. Trust me, it would take a lot more than any of you to ruin my good mood today."

"I'm glad." Dez leaned in, and i felt like she was studying me. "You really love him, don't you?"

I felt the grin spread across my face, unable to control it. "Yeah. I really do."

And that's all that needed to be said.

* * *

_**Bit of a short one today- short and sweet. I may or may not have blatantly stolen some lines from Dirty Dancing, so if something sounds familiar, that's probably it. Hope you guys liked it.**_

_**The last bit feels a bit tacked on to me, but i wanted to lengthen it and it was like 11 pm, so my writing isn't always the best. But whatever. Hope you liked all the fluff. I was actually fingerings a bit as i wrote it, cuz i think its that cutest thing i have ever written.**_

_**Oh, and if anyone is still reading the authors notes, i need some ideas. I want to write a confrontation scene between Mich and Frollo. Any suggestions?**_

_**What did you think? Drop me a line.**_


	27. Yours

_**Hi there! Thanks for sticking round to read the next chapter. I'd like to thank rapunzel101, Dancinconverse, kamikaze-djali and my friends on Wattpad for your reviews. This chapter is a bit of a filler, and will have an element from the book.**_

* * *

_Well, open up your mind and see like me,_

_Open up your plans and damn you're free._

_Look into your heart and you'll find love, love, love, love._

_Listen to the music of the moment, people dance and sing, we're just one big family_

_And it's our God-forsaken right to be loved, loved, loved, loved, loved_

_So I won't hesitate_

_No more, no more._

_It cannot wait,_

_I'm sure._

_There's no need to complicate._

_Our time is short._

_This is our fate,_

_I'm yours._

_I'm Yours- Jason Mraz._

* * *

I slept well that night, and woke refreshed and ready to take on the day. I skipped around my room, throwing on clothes and tidying up, then skipped out to the kitchen to make breakfast. My sisters found me humming show tunes and joined in, and when mum came out and told us to get ready to go, we were a full on musical. I guess it was a good thing that they joined in, because otherwise my unusually chipper mood might've attracted attention. As it was i had to restrain myself from delightedly telling everyone what had happened the day before.

When i got to school, however, my mood changed. There was no Quasi at our lockers to keep me company, and this was strange, because he had made a point of doing so in the last few weeks. I waited for a little while, but i knew it was pointless. He was always dropped off at exactly the same time every day, so if he wasn't here by now, he wasn't coming. A heavy lump of dread settled in my stomach. When i said that nothing could bring me down, i had forgotton about the problem we still faced.

I couldn't stop the tears welling up in my eyes, nor could i stop myself from slamming my locker door as hard as I could. I was angry and afraid, and I must confess that it was as much disappointment in not being able to see him after finally getting all our feelings out as it was fear for his safety. But as the warning bell rung, I took a deep breath and got ahold of myself, steeling myself for the day. I would be fine. But Quasi's absence only reinforced the fact in my mind that i needed to act, and soon.

I was going to get him out of that house if it was the last thing i did.

* * *

After school i tried to get the usual homework to deliver, but was told that since we were so close to the end of school, there really wasn't anything worth delivering. There was no point anyway, since the next week would be catch-up time and he could do any outstanding work then. But... I had to see him. I had to know he was ok.

Gathering as much schoolwork-related paper in my bag as possible, i straightened it all out, grabbed a few more from the notice board as i passed it, and paperclipped it all together to look like homework. Then i sped out to the waiting car and asked, very sweetly, if we could have make a detour.

* * *

_Crap_.

I peered out the car window, holding the papers tightly in my hands as i assessed the situation with all the calm i could muster.

"Well?" mum asked impatiently. In the back, Katie started to complain about being bored and hungry. "We all want to get home, Mich. You getting out or not?"

I looked in the rearview mirror, dumbly hoping for some encouragement from the kids in the back, but all i got were Angie and Del's blank stares. Of course they couldn't help. I looked outside again, at the house i had been so eager to get to before. Frollo was out the front, sitting on the front step having a beer.

_Bollocks._

_Bloody hell._

_What am I supposed to do now?_

Gulping, I opened the door and slid out of the car. This was why i brought the papers, but i hadn't counted on actually facing Frollo. It had been so long... And now i knew the truth... How could i speak naturally to him?

I wanted to jump back into the safetly of the car and tell mum to floor it, but I couldn't back out now. We were here, he had seen us, mum wanted to get it over with. In short, I was stuffed.

I forced my legs to move and hurried across the road, stopping at the gate. Frollo squinted at me from his spot in front of the door. "Yeah?" he asked abruptly, his cold, sharp voice chilling my bones. I shivered in the early summer heat and realised i was petrified.

Unlatching the gate, I stepped through and forced my voice to behave itself. "I, uh, have homework. For Quasi. W-what he missed today." I held out the bundle of paper close enough for him to reach out and take, but not too close.

He took them and narrowed his eyes at me. "You... You're the girl."

I took a step back and tried to smile politely, but my lips felt rubbery and foreign and the result was probably grotesque. "What girl?"

"The girl he was talking about... Yeah, you're the nice girl." He took a swig from the bottle and laughed unpleasantly. I felt a pounding in my head and a sour taste in my mouth as he continued on. His voice had lost it's amusement and was now threatening. "The tart. You're seducing him and filling his head with rebellion, you and your offers of friendship and love. He doesn't deserve them. Stay away from Quasimodo, little girl."

I couldn't speak. My tongue was dry and heavy, stuck to the roof of my mouth like too much peanut butter, and my legs felt weak. He knew. He knew about us. He had probably beaten it out of Quasi. The thought made me feel sick. I wanted to scream and scratch his eyes out. But then-

"He... doesn't... deserve it?" The words made their way out of my mouth by themselves. Anger clawed at my chest like a beast desperate to get out. "What do you mean- Of course he deserves it! He's a human being who needs love and friendship more than any other person i know, and I'm not going to-to... to let him suffer any more." I paused for breath, tears pushing at the edges of my vision. "I don't care if you are a policeman. You're a...a...a bastard!" With that, I turned on my heel and ran. I don't know what Frollo did. I know i had this idea that he might chase me and try to grab me or something, but there were too many witnesses on the street to ever risk it. I got to the car safely and told mum to floor it. She drove out at a sensible pace and i tried to calm my racing heart and shaky legs and answer her questions through the mess of tangled thoughts that had overtaken me.

Through it all, one thought haunted me, making my gut churn in fear for what was to come.

_I'm such a bloody idiot_.

* * *

The weekend could not end fast enough. I ran anxiously throught the gates on Monday morning and almost cried with relief to see Quasi waiting for me at out lockers. As it was i couldn't stop myself from throwing my arms around him and hugging him fiercely.

"Hey..." He hugged me back gingerly, the confusion evident in his soft voice. "What...?"

"I'm sorry." I sighed and pulled away, feeling stupid. I was so emotional and clingy lately, and it was driving me crazy. Where had the old me gone? The one who didnt need anyone and scoffed at those girls who had to be with their boyfriends all the time? With a start, i realised that she had disappeared ages ago. I was different now. I shook the thoughts out of my head and brushed a lock of hair out of Quasi's eyes. "Are you ok? I was so worried when you didn't come in last week."

"Oh..." He looked away, face falling. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"What happened? I went to your house and talked to Frollo and he..." I swallowed, my heart clenching. "He knows about us. How does he know ? Wh-what did he do to you?"

He shrugged, not meeting my eye. "I-I guess he noticed that I was happier than usual. And..." He winced. "He might've s-seen some drawings. He s-scared me into telling him... and he said some awful things about you."

I nodded, noticing that people around us were starting to stare. We were making a scene. I pulled away and opened my locker, willing myself to ignore them. "I, ah, talked to him on Friday and he said them to my face." I snorted. "It didn't end well."

"What... What happened?" He looked like he was dreading the answer.

I gave him a condensed version of Friday's events and finished with a worried look. "And... then i called him a bastard. I'm... I'm sorry if that got you in trouble. I didn't think."

"It didn't. I didn't see him much over the weekend."

"Good." I stopped rummaging in my locker and sighed, glancing over Quasi and noting how his shoulders drooped and his expression was guarded. I wanted to tell him then and there that things were going to change soon, that he would be happy, but i couldn't. The timing had to be perfect, and who knew what might happen between now and then? I shook my head again and cleared my throat. "What's he going to do? Now that he knows about us?"

"I don't know. I think..." He bit his lip, clutching his books tightly in his arms. "He said some horrible things, tried to convince me that you... you don't really..."

"He's wrong." I was startled by the amount of vehemence in my vioce. "You know that, right? Whatever he said about me, about my real feelings and motives, is wrong. He's trying to mess with your head. Don't let him."

"S-so you... so you still...?"

I turned to face him, my jaw dropping. "How can you even ask that? I don't regret a single thing i said or did on Thursday. That was the happiest day of my life!"

He looked stunned, his cheeks slowly warming as he flounded for something to say. I leaned against my locker, just watching him be a complete dork and looking adorable while he did it.

"I'm hoping..." I said finally, when the silence had gone from bashful to awkward and i decided that he had suffered enough, "That you don't regret it either. I really, really hope you don't. Because i meant what i said, after school. I really do... you know..." I paused and cleared my throat self-consciously, cheeks tingling.

Quasi was red and speechless, but he managed to get a few stammering words out. "Of course... M-me too..."

I smiled, warmth blossoming in my chest and starting up the butterflies as I wondered if it was possible to be any happier than i was in that moment.

The bell chose that time to ring, of course, breaking up another little moment like it usually did. We grabbed our stuff and headed towards our respective classes, melting into the crowd and into another school day.

We met up again in art class. We were finishing up our last official assessment pieces for the year, the subject being 'representation or concept', and really I was only about halfway through. I had originally planned on a representation of Romeo and Juliet but with trees, in a kind of Aboriginal style, a reworked version of a piece i had done in 8th grade. But as I surveyed the half-drawn trees and the gaudy reds and yellows i was about to mix, I was struck with a flash of inspiration. One glance at Quasi next to me, who look to be almost done with his painting, and it was decided. I painted over the canvas with white, grabbed the blues and black instead, and started over.

Some time later, nearly at the end of the lesson, while other students had presented their works to the class and made their speeches, I stepped back from my canvas and nodded, dropping the brush into the water. I had always worked better under pressed and in one sitting, and I felt that this was no exception. A tree, bent and crooked, jutted out of the ground, which grew transparent to show the roots deep underground. Lightening flashed out of a dark, stormy sky, multiple bolts hitting the tree, while hurricane-worthy gales of wind and rain lashed at it, but still the tree stood strong. Though the picture was crude and imperfect, the message was clear, and it was as good as it was going to get.

"Ok, who else is ready for presentation?" called the teacher from her desk, and I shrugged and raised my hand. Might as well get it over with.

She called me up, and I walked out to the front, painting held in front of me. Looking out at the 30 or so students in front of me, i found most of them engrossed in their own work or talking with friends, so not many were paying attention to me. I turned to face the teacher instead, and began my speech.

"My painting is a representation of a trait i admire," I began, glancing around the room. A few had looked up and were watching me, bored already. Quasi was looking, and I suddenly felt very self-conscious standing up there, about to talk about something to do with him. He would realise it, for sure. Wondering if anyone else would be able to figure it out, i took a deep breath and continued on. "As you can see, this tree is under strike from a heavy storm. Lightening, wind, rain." I pointed out each element. "But the tree stands firm. It's roots run deep, and nothing will sway it. Nature is a wonderful thing. But it's not just to look at. Nature can be copied, and it has been, many times. But this tree... this tree... this tree is a person, you see. A person with the world against them." I looked at the picture, trying to put the words together in my head. "We all face trouble. Things happen to us, or we make things happen, or maybe you just have a bad day. You know what I'm talking about. But we have a choice whether or not to keep going. This tree... it's had everything thrown at it- nature can be a bitch sometimes." The teacher cleared her throat, and I winced. "Sorry. I'm nearly done." Someone laughed, and I took that as encouragement to keep going. "The point I'm trying to make is, not everyone can take the heat. But some can. Some people can have the worst things happen to them, and feel like no-one cares about them, but they soldier on. They look for the positive. Like the tree, they keep going in the face of opposition. And I think that's awesome." I stopped, smiled. Caught Quasi's eye and winked. Then, with a small "Thank you", i hurried back to my place.

The teacher made a comment, something about 'deep subjects and encouraging others', then called for another presentation. I was proud but a little surprised when Quasi's hand went up almost straight away. I studied his painting before he took it, impressed by the amount of detail he had put in. Two vases, each with flowers, stood on an indescribable surface. One was crystal, shiny and intricately detailed, and the other was made of what looked like clay. The crystal one had a crack in it, draining it's water into a puddle around it, and the flowers inside were shrivelled and dead. The clay one, though not as lovely, was whole, and the flowers inside were bright and healthy. A message. He took the canvas before i had worked it out, but i had the general idea.

He stood in front, face set with determination. I imagined that it was hard to be at the centre of attention after a life of being ridiculed, which made it all the more special to witness. He held his painting in front of him and took a moment to prepare himself, and when he glanced my way, i gave him double thumbs up for encouragement. Maybe that was all he needed, because when he spoke, his voice was firm, hardly a stutter in sight.

"My painting is about an issue i have faced my whole life." He paused, held the canvas higher. "Here you see two vases. They represent t-two types of people. In this one," he pointed to the crystal and withered flowers, "The vase is beautiful. But it's cracked, ruined inside, and what results? The flowers are dead and worthless. But other vase," he pointed to it, and met my eyes from across the room. "The other one is plain, ugly. But it's whole, and the flowers inside are beautiful. If you saw b-both of these vases in a shop, you would most likely choose the crystal one and ignore the clay. After all, the crystal is so beautiful. On the outside. Now apply this to people. We're drawn to the most beautiful, the most popular, even if they are cruel and s-selfish. And we are moved to ignore or pick on those with a less-pleasing outside, not bothering to see inside. Society has been trained to exult the beautiful and crush the ugly. I-I have experienced this too many times in my life. It's not right." He stopped and glanced around the room, and i followed his gaze.

Everyone had abandoned their own activities and was looking at him.

He had the attention of the whole room.

I turned back to him and found him starting to shrink under the unexpected attention. He looked at me again, and i gestured for him to wrap it up. Freezing up there was not an option. He nodded and lowered the painting. "We... need to be aware," he finished, and fairly ran back to his easel, trying to escape all the eyes that were suddenly on him.

There was silence for a moment, and then the teacher started to clap. I quickly joined in, and pretty soon everyone was applauding in appreciation. Shocked by this result, Quasi stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. Thank god for the bell.

As everyone packed up their stuff and stacked their canvases in a corner of the room, i approached him and, disregarding my feelings about the amount of affection we showed in public, pulled him into a hug. I heard a few 'awws' from the people around us and closed my eyes, blocking them out.

"You did good," I whispered, rubbing his back. "I'm proud of you."

He tightened his arms around me a little and then let me go, ducking his head sheepishly. "Th-thanks."

I smiled and picked up the picture, tilting my head. "It's very good. When it's hanging up in the Queensland Gallery of Modern Art, what will you call it?"

"I-I was thinking of 'Earthenware and Crystal'." He smiled one of those bashful little grins that made my heart flutter, and I felt my face start to heat up. Uh oh. I let out a breath and took a step back.

"I-I'll just put this with the others for you."

He nodded and started to organise his paints, and I grabbed my own painting and deposited both with everyone else's, stacked up against the wall. I took a moment to breathe, and when i was ready, i headed back, only to find two girls talking to Quasi.

Now, I'm not jealous by nature, but my protective insticts must have kicked in when I recognised them from the group that had humiliated Quasi at the Halloween Dance many months ago.

I hurried over and stood behind him, hands in pockets and a determined stare fixed on them. They were from the drama club, two blondes whose names i had forgotton. Perky, annoyingly pretty, and usually found embarrassing less-fortunate girls. Esme's followers. If i was a dog, my hackles would've been raised.

"I just wanted to say sorry for everything we ever did to you," one of them was saying, genuine remorse in both their faces. "That stupid song and dance thing. It wasn't fair to treat you like that."

"We should never have agreed to do it," continued the other one. "Can you ever forgive us?"

Quasi nodded vigorously, to my surprise. "O-of course."

Well that was unexpected. I frowned at them. "Why this sudden change of heart?"

They exchanged glances and eyed me warily. At length, the first one spoke. "The painting. It... made me realise... I never thought of how he'd feel..." She stopped, looking completely ashamed. "I thought it was just a bit of fun, but it wasn't. I'm so sorry. I know words aren't enough, but it's true."

The other girl looked on the verge of tears. "We've seen how you two stick together, and we realised that you're just like everybody else. You don't deserve to be treated like that. I never thought of myself as a bully, but i am. Well, I was. Not anymore. I don't know if we can ever make it up to you, but if you could forgive us..."

Quasi was looking at me, and i could read his expression easily enough. Forgive them.

I sighed and nodded grudgingly. "I guess if he can, i can."

The relief on their faces was overwhelming. They thanked us profusely and left quickly, and we were left alone again, a little stunned.

"Well, that was unexpected." I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and draped an arm around Quasi. "But good. Looks like you're getting a little respect." I paused. "But... you forgave them so quickly. How can you...?"

"I-If i held a grudge on everyone who ever hurt me, what good would it do?" he answered seriously. "I would be even more unhappy than i was before. I don't want to do that."

I smiled and, realising that we were late for our next classes, steered both of us out of the classroom, which even the teacher had vacated while we were talking. "I wish i had met you sooner, Kaz. You could teach me some things, i think."

He ducked his head, abashed by my praise, and we separated in the corridor to go to our respective classes.

* * *

_**I hope those paragraphs weren't too big. Could you read that all right?**_

_**You should totally read Part 9 of the book if you get a chance.**_

_**Just an FYI, you know the confrontation i mentioned in the last chapter? That wasn't it. I'm planning something bigger for later. And Thanks for your great suggestions on that point kamikaze-djali.**_

_**I think we've only got a few chapters left, you guys!**_

_**Thank so much for reading! See you later!**_


	28. Cannonball

_**So Eurovision was interesting, huh? I didnt see the whole thing, but Serbia rocked and i didn't think UK was as bad as everyone said they were. But that's just my opinion, .**_

_**Thanks to Bella, kamikaze-djali, rapunzel101 and guests for your reviews.**_

_**I've thrown in some random Pierre for y'all. **_

* * *

_I was trying to take your heart_  
_Keep it in a cardboard box_  
_So when it gets hard_  
_You'll never be far_  
_And your love won't be lost_  
_As the bridges fall apart_  
_I still find a way to cross_  
_And even if you are lost among the stars_  
_Your love won't go off_

_For me me me me it's in this_  
_But I need need need more of this_  
_Can't turn away, feel it push me_

_And I keep falling_  
_I keep falling for you_  
_Like the rain fall_  
_Like a cannonball_

_I keep falling_  
_I keep falling for you_  
_Like the rain fall_  
_Like a cannonball_

_'Cannonball'- Kiesza_

* * *

The hot summer sun beat down in our shoulders, starting to burn my skin through the coarse material of my uniform. My ice block was starting to melt, sticky, sugary water dripping all over my fingers faster than i was able to eat it. Beside me, Quasi looked like he was having the same problem, and i laughed at the sight of him desperately trying to eat his treat before it fell off the stick.

I swung my legs, airing out the backs of my knees, and shifted a little on the fence railing. My butt was getting numb, and i considered saying so, but i didnt feel like moving and i sure as hell didn't want to draw attention to my butt, of all things. It was hardly my most flattering asset. Instead, i finished my ice block and let myself stare at the boy next to me while he embarrassed himself with his.

The last chunk of flavoured ice lost its grip on the stick and plopped onto the ground like a huge, slushy raindrop, and Quasi groaned, eyeing it mournfully. I laughed and shook my head. "Well, that's the end of that."

He grumbled, licked the stick, and broke it in half. As he did, a warm breeze grabbed the wrapper in his hand and whipped it away. We watched it dance in the air before coming to rest on the ground about ten metres away.

I nudged him. "You gonna get it?"

He rolled his eyes at me and jumped off the fence.

Footstep on the path behind us distracted me from the sight of the wrapper flying into the air again, and i nearly fell off the fence in shock when i saw who was walking down the street. "Hey!" I slid off and waved at him. "Hey, you!"

The boy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, frowning. "Do i know you?"

"Yeah, uh, aren't you the guy who helped Esme Azarola?"

"Yes...?"

"I warned you, remember? The second time. You crashed into me?"

"Oh!" His expression cleared, and he stepped towards me. "Yeah, i remember. How's she doing? Haven't seen her in a while."

"Who, Esme?" I shrugged. "She's ok, i guess. A bit messed up, but she'll be fine." I stuck my hand out. "I'm Michigan, by the way."

He shook it with a small grin. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Pierre."

"Nice to meet you." I glanced behind me and laughed at the sight of Quasi trying to grab his wrapper out of a bush without touching anything. "So, uh, what school do you go to?"

"None. I left last year. Finances and all that."

"Oh." There was an uncomfortable silence as i tried to figure out what to say next. However, i didn't have to wait long for something interesting to happen.

"It's my mother," Pierre said abruptly, scowling. "I had to take care of her while she was in remission, I had to privide for us, i had to stifle my creativity to work full time and budget our funds and now, now..." He kicked the sidewalk angrily. "Now she's in hospital, and I was just fired."

I was trying to keep up with this sudden information dump. "Why?"

"Why hospital, or why fired?"

"Why both. And, uh, why you're telling me."

"Mum's cancer came back, and this time it's here to stay. I suppose i should be sad, but i just feel... relieved. And i was fired for daydreaming, apparently. Too much poetry." He stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed, the midday sun glinting off his curly blond mop. "And I'm telling you this because you're here."

I couldn't believe this guy. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He shrugged. "I'll get over it. It's time to do something different."

"Like what?"

"I want to get out of here. Find somewhere new and interesting to inspire me."

"Are you an artist?"

"A writer."

I straightened up, interested. "Me too!"

"What do you write?"

"Fiction. Mostly fan fiction. You?"

"Poetry, essays, religious or political stuff. The usual."

I didn't try to tell him that his writing was not at all usual. "Oh. Cool. So, um, what are your plans?"

"I have relatives in Melbourne. It seems fitting to start my new life in the Arts Capital, hey?"

"Totally." A thought crossed my mind then, something surprisingly coincidencedental. "Hey... Esme's moving down there too. At the end of the year."

He looked interested now. "Any idea where exactly?"

"No, but it would be nice... I mean Melbourne's a huge city and the chances of you two ever meeting are slim at best... But she's been through a lot, and you have helped her before. If you ever bump into her..."

"I'll be sure to offer my friendship."

I laughed at his slightly old-fashioned speech. "No one really talks like that, you know. Well, no-one except Quasi. Must be an artist thing."

"Quasi?"

I pointed behind me, where i could see him heading towards a bin. "My, uh..." I stopped, brow furrowed. I hadn't actually thought about titles until now. What were we, exactly? Could i call him boyfriend? We weren't exactly dating, but then, we weren't not. How together were we? Well, joined at the hip mostly. We were friends that loved each other. Was there supposed to be a word for that? I cleared my throat and opted for the safest bet. "My friend, over there. He's a bit of a poet himself."

"Him?" I could just hear all the stupid things Pierre was thinking, but fortunately for him, he kept them to himself. Instead, he looked up the street and checked his watch. "Well, it's been fun..."

"Yeah, i think break's nearly over. It was nice to meet you. Sorry about... everything."

He shrugged again. "Life is a cruel mistress. We have to live with it. See ya."

I stared after him as he continued on, one eyebrow raisesd. "Oh, boy."

* * *

I met Quasi at the bin, where he had finally managed to catch and dispose of his rubbish. It was interesting, our school, how strict they were when it came to littering and jumper colours, but how they seemed to overlook the kids smoking in the bathroom or doing drugs and other things at lunchtime. The bullying crackdown was an exception, but without me to push the issue with so many 'parent complaints', i bet they wouldn't have done anything about that either. The justice system was warped.

"Hey, want another ice block?" I asked, pulling a few more coins out of my pocket.

"Oh, no, i don't need any more-"

"You lost half of yours, it's hot as Hades out here, and besides, I want you to have it. Come on, it's not often i get to spoil my friends." Again, that word. Were we still allowed to use it? I wondered if i should ask him.

He gave in with a shrug and a smile, and we headed back towards the tuckshop. I handed him the money, to his surprise, and told him what to get, and wandered over to the noticeboard while he stood in line.

I reached for a colourful flyer, eyes catching on the word 'music' and sparking my interest immediately.

**Greenbank Music and Recreation Camp**

**Term 2 of 2014**

**Exact dates TBA**

"Huh..." I stared at the words, briefly wondering if i should go this time. I had never qualified for music camp before, but after this year, maybe i would. I was good enough at guitar now to join the band, and if i got more involved in school stuff... maybe.

"You gonna go to that?"

I jumped and scowled at the tall, blond, annoying boy who so often liked to sneak up on me. "Geez, Phoebus, do you get a kick out of scaring me half to death?"

He shrugged and waited for me to answer.

I folded up the flyer and shoved it in my pocket, glancing at the tuckshop line. "I might."

He stepped over and leaned against the board, arms crossed, and inclined his head towards Quasi. "So, is everything resolved now?"

I smiled, but refrained from telling him everything that had gone on between us. "I'd say so. Why the interest in us?"

"Maybe I'm trying to flirt with you."

"Better not let my... boyfriend... catch you doing that." I felt a few butterflies stirring inside me as I tried out the strange-sounding word, wondering if i would have time to get used to it.

Phoebus' eyes gleamed. "I knew it! I so knew it! So you admitted it at last!"

"Don't expect intimate details- you're not getting any."

"Aww, come on Mich, i practically made your relationship happen!"

"You did not!" I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, so maybe you encouraged me when i needed it, but i don't owe you anything except a thank you. So, thanks. But that's it."

He gave up then, sensing that he wasn't going to get anywhere. "Well, congratulations anyway. You look really happy."

I smiled bigger, a warm feeling settling in my heart. "I am really happy."

"And so is he." Phoebus laughed incredulously. "That dork loves you so much. It's almost pathetic sometimes."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, no disrespect intended, I only meant that you can tell that he's crazy in love with you."

I was curious now. "How?"

"It's way he looks at you. It's like... It's like..." He paused, trying to think of the right words. "It's like, uh, other girls are faint stars, and you're the sun. Like he revolves around you. Like he worships the ground you walk on. He's so in love, everyone can see it. It's sad, really."

"Oh, you're just jealous." My cheeks were burning by now. I had no idea how to react to this revelation of the intensity of Quasi's feelings for me. It felt so strange, that someone could adore me so much. Boring old me, who never spoke to strangers and, in the looks department, had more bad days than good.

"Eh, you might be right."

I stared. "Really?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, it's not something I've experienced, at least not for a while anyway. Being with Esme... it's not fun anymore. She's so difficult. It's a chore to try and pretend that we're still in love. I think she knows as well as i do, now, that it's not going to work anymore."

"Oh, Phoebus." I sighed, knowing that nothing could be done to help anymore. "I'm sorry. I wish there was something i could do, but I've seen her too. After everything that's happened, she's changed, and not for the better. I won't try to deter you anymore."

"You mean you approve of me... you know..." He gestured helplessly with his hands. "Breaking up with her?"

"Let's just say I'm not going to try to talk you out of it anymore. But, Phoebus," I touched his arm briefly, my voice low and serious. "Please be gentle. Don't leave it to someone else. Talk to her, explain the situation, try to reason with her. Basically, do everything you didn't do with me."

He made a face at that. I think he hated being reminded that he was a cause for heartbreak once. Whatever he was thinking, neither of us had to dwell on it for long, for when he saw Quasi coming back with the ice blocks, he wasted no time in making things right between them.

"Hey man, how's it going?" He held out his hand for a high five, which Quasi hesitantly returned. "I hear you've got a girlfriend now? Well done dude. You've got game."

Quasi looked completely bewildered, whether by the wording or the fact that this particular person was being nice to him i wasn't sure. But he smiled and nodded just the same, while my cheeks starting burning up again at the mention of the word 'girlfriend'. I guess we'll be talking about that pretty soon, then.

"So, uh, I just wanted to say," Phoebus continued to my amazement, "that I'm sorry for beating you up that one time. I'll never do anything like that again. Can you forgive me?"

"Yeah, ok." Quasi sounded a bit dazed. "I forgive you."

"Sweet. Alright, i gotta go. You two, go be cute." And with those parting words, he was gone.

We shared a confused look as he walked off. "That was... interesting."

"Yeah," he agreed, passing me a new ice block. We opened our treats and started walking towards the back oval, and i thought about raising the boyfriend/girlfriend thing with him, but I felt really shy all of a sudden. I was hyper aware of our shoulders brushing as we walked and our steps becoming in unison, and the stares from people around us weren't helping. I couldn't stop thinking about what Phoebus had said, about me being 'the sun'. Did he really love me that much? I snuck a glance at him, and he caught my eye and smiled. The butterflies that had been disturbed before starting flapping their wings again.

This is ridiculous, i thought. I can't be too shy to talk to my boyfriend, if that's what he is.

"Phoebus, he, uh," I coughed, focusing on my ice block, "he called me your girlfriend." I had his attention at that word. "I haven't thought about it before. Is that what i am?"

"Do... Do you want to be... m-my girlfriend?" Quasi asked hesitantly, stumbling over the word.

"I'd love to be your girlfriend."

"Then, I guess y-you are."

I grinned and nudged him lightly. "And i guess that make you my boyfriend, hey?"

He nodded, smiling widely and blushing furiously, and i laughed and slipped my arm through his as we went to make the most of what was left of lunchtime.

* * *

The rest of the week would've been pretty ordinary, except it wasn't. I mean, i knew that there were those who st

ill didn't accept Quasi and were closed-minded d-bags, but this was different. This was completely unexpected and a little puzzling.

Because they weren't targeting him.

They were targeting me.

That afternoon, i had a note in my locker, calling me 'an ugly troll who didn't deserve to live'. I threw it away, wondering why i was suddenly at the recieving end of someone else's malice. What had i done recently that might've pissed someone off? Nothing, unless you counted Esme being constantly mad at me. But why would she suddenly decide to do this?

On Wednesday, I found my locker trashed from top to bottom. This was strange, as i didn't think anyone had my locker number except for me. Someone was pretty serious about their revenge, going to all the trouble of finding out my combination. Later on, Quasi showed me a note slipped into his locker, with language i couldn't repeat, directed at me. I have to admit, by this time i was starting to worry about our safety.

On Thursday morning, it was slim, and I had to admit that it was pretty clever. Some kind of contraption had been rigged to pour slime on me when i opened my locker door, but thankfully it wasn't a lot and it only caught my arm. I didn't fancy a trip to the bathroom to try and wash the stuff out of my uniform.

That afternoon, it was powder. I wasn't expecting another prank so early, so i wasn't as careful as i had been in the morning and the cloud of fine powder exploded over my head and shoulders like a tiny bomb. It took me ages to brush it all out of my hair.

Friday was the worst. On Friday morning, when there were more people than usual crowding the halls and I was rushing to get to class, I opened my locker and was shocked by the avalanche of tampons cascading out of it. Tampons, of all things! And of course people stared and laughed and pointed and pretty soon i had a substantial crowd around me and my ten thousand tampons, giggling behind their hands like they hadn't seen a sanitary item before, the twits. She had gone too far this time, I decided.

When i had recovered from the shock and everyone was waiting for me to say something, I grinned and grabbed a few from the pile. "Finally, a gift i can use!" That got a bit of a laugh and sort of broke the tension in the crowd. "I don't know if I can use them all, though. Does anyone need some? I can't fit them all in my bag, so whoever needs some, take some please."

No one moved, so i put all my books inside the locker and shovelled as many tampons in my bag as it could hold, announced to everyone that i was giving them to sickbay, and left. When i got back, the crowd had disappeared and so had the last few tampons that had been left. It had been a surprisingly easy situation, everything considered, but i had to stop this thing before it got out of hand. So that lunchtime, I went to find Esme.

She was pretty hard to track down these days, but with some help i eventually found her with some friends and asked to talk to her.

"Why are you doing things to me?" I asked her as soon as we were out of listening range.

She raised her eyebrows, like she didn't know what i was talking about, but i knew she did.

"Seriously, though. Angry notes? Slime and powder? And mother-flipping tampons? What, you ran out of ideas so you turned to a horror movie for inspiration?" I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. "You are so pathetic, you know that? What were you trying to do? Embarrass me, at best?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I think she was trying to sound haughty, but all she managed was bitchy.

I signed and tried to speak rationally with her. "Look, i know you think i ruined your life and all that, but i didn't. You did it yourself, trying to make yourself feel good by hurting other people. It was always going come back to bite you. Petty pranks aren't going to change that."

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. "Are you finished?"

I nodded.

"I hate you," she started bluntly.

"Well i knew that-"

"Shut the hell up!" she screamed shrilly, taking me by surprise. "I wish you would just die, you stupid bitch!" And here she proceeded to call me every expletive under the sun, including a few that i hadn't heard of before. I was too surprised and even a little amused to feel angry or even attacked by her outburst. Instead, as i watched her scream curses at me and stamp her feet, all i could feel for her was pity.

When she was out of breath and had run out of creative things to call me, she turned on her heel and marched back to her friends, who were all staring incredulously at her. I sighed and yelled back "I forgive you!" before going my own separate way, wondering why i thought i would be able to reason with her.

* * *

_**Bit short this time. It kind of ran away from me. Sorry about that.**_

_**I've been planning revenge on Esme for ages now. It was probably part of the plot from the very beginning. But the more I write about her and try to make out that she's just a bitch, the less i want to get revenge on her. I still feel sorry for her, and I don't think i could make Mich feel any different. There was supposed to be a scene at the end of the story, but i don't think I'm going to write it now.**_

_**I have more interesting chapter planned, i promise**_.


	29. Feels Like Home

_**Hey guys, long time no see! I've just got a filler chapter for you tonight, and be warned, there is fluff. Lots of fluff. Also, the way things are planned out, I think this is the third-last chapter. The book is nearly finished. I can't quite believe it myself.**_

_**I'm really tired, so I'll go and let you read this very fluffy chapter that took waaay too long to write.**_

_**Enjoy**_ :)

* * *

_Somethin' in your eyes, makes me wanna lose myself_

_Makes me wanna lose myself, in your arms_

_There's somethin' in your voice, makes my heart beat fast_

_Hope this feeling lasts, the rest of my life_

_If you knew how lonely my life has been_

_And how long I've been so alone_

_And if you knew how I wanted someone to come along_

_And change my life the way you've done_

_It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me_

_It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from_

_It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me_

_It feels like I'm all the way back where I belong_

_-'Feels Like Home', CHANTAL KREVIAZUK._

* * *

I woke up on Saturday morning with the remnants of a dream caught behind my eyes and a smile on my face. You know that feeling when everything seems alright with the world and all your responsibilities and general insecurities about the future have yet to hit you with full force? Yeah, me neither, or at least not very often; but if you can imagine it, that's how I was feeling.

I forgot, for the moment, that my job in relation to Quasi's general well-being and happiness wasn't finished yet. I guess young love is an easy distraction from more important things. But whatever the case, I chose to lay in bed and let my mind wander through the fog of sleepiness and bliss, unaware of the limited time I had.

I got up eventually, eyes still half-closed, and made my way through my morning routine, wandering from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen, letting the sounds of family life infiltrate my brain. The girls had already been up for ages and were now rushing around the house, busy with whatever things they liked to do on the weekend, while I squinted in the fridge and tried to decide what I wanted for breakfast.

It wasn't until Angie came to me looking for envelopes that something clicked.

"You should get your invitations done now as well," she reminded me, and I frowned as I rummaged through my drawer for the envelopes. She was always on my case about planning holiday events in advance, but I was sure I had plenty of time.

"Already? I have ages!"

She looked at me like I was an idiot. "The holidays start next week."

I froze, my hands still in the drawer. "You mean this is the last week of school?"

She rolled her eyes. "Duh!"

"Frick." The envelopes forgotten, I grabbed my tablet, ran out to the living room and snatched the phone from its hook. Seconds later, a voice gave a greeting, and I took a breath to try and steady my heartbeat.

"Johanna? I have a video you may want to see..."

* * *

Waiting is one of the hardest things to do, hands down. It's right up there with carrying three plates or confessing your love for someone or trying to choose a candy bar or ice cream flavor when you're in a hurry. Maybe slightly higher. Maybe I just have weak arms and a terrible sense of indecisiveness. My point is, it's hard as hell to have to wait days to tell someone really important news, especially when you're emotionally invested in the situation.

I was impatient and jittery and irritable for the rest of that day, and also a little scared. I knew that what I had done was irreversible and that the beginning of the end had officially started the moment I finally sent Johanna that video. There was no going back now. The full force of what I had done didn't hit me like a lightening bolt as soon as I tapped that button, but it seeped into my bones and gripped my heart with nervousness, fear and relief. I was glad that I had made up my mind to actually help Quasi out of his situation, but what did that mean? Would events play out exactly as they had countless times in my mind, where I had fantasized about everything working out perfectly? Probably not. How much control did I really have in this thing? I was so confused.

Johanna, on the other hand, was having no such problems. My call to her was short and abrupt, and when I decided to call her again on Sunday after some time to think, she was nearly breathless with excitement.

"I just... I can't think," I confessed to her once I knew she was listening. "I've driven myself crazy trying to plan out every possible outcome and wondering if I've done the right thing, even though I know i have. I'm so worried that something will go wrong and Quasi will get even more hurt and everything will have been for nothing. It's just... I don't..."

"You really care about him, don't you?" Johanna's voice was soft and delicate, as if tiptoeing around a difficult subject.

"I do. I really do. He's an awesome guy and he's really special to me and I don't know what I would do if something bad happened to him." The tears were already pricking my eyes, and I scolded myself inwardly for being such a crybaby.

"I'm sure you're pretty special to him, too." Her comment made me realise that she probably didn't know about us yet.

"I am." I cleared my throat self-consciously. "I know I'm special to him because... well... you probably haven't heard, but we're kind of... together... now. It happened... two weeks ago, I think."

Her gasp was almost comical. "Really? Oh, Michigan, that's wonderful! I'm so happy for both of you!"

"You sound surprised."

"Well, to be honest I was hoping it would happen, but I didn't think it actually would. There would be a certain social stigma to be aware of in your relationship, I'm sure. And he is such a shy person that I couldn't imagine him actually picking up the nerve to ask you out. I assume you were instrumental in bringing that about."

"Well, he was actually the first one to try." I smiled and shook me head at the memory. "After some encouragement from my friends, he tried to show me a poem that he had written about me, but there was a miscommunication and he thought I rejected him. So I had to go set things straight, and one thing led to another, and the rest is history." A laugh found its way out of my throat. "As for social stigma... well, most of the school thought we were dating months before we actually were, so I think we're OK. And I don't really care what others think about us anyway. I can't help it if they don't find him as beautiful as I do."

Johanna was quiet for a while, and when she spoke again, I could tell from her voice that she was smiling. "You think he's beautiful?"

"Yes." I answered without hesitation. "I mean his face was ugly at first, but once I got to know him, his personality kind of just... made him beautiful. I don't think he's ugly anymore. He's just... him." I could've gone into long detail about how amazing his eyes were or how adorable his every mannerism was or how I wanted to cry every time he sang or how I wanted to snuggle with him for hours, but gushing made me embarrassed and it wasn't something I felt I could share with anyone, let alone my boyfriend's much older second cousin. So I just swallowed my words and closed my eyes and tried to get ahold of my mushy brain, wondering if it was always going to be like this.

"I have to admit," Johanna started slowly, "I've never quite been able to get used to him. I was never able to get to know him. I only observed from a distance, feeling sorry for him and trying to get him out of that awful place. I'm glad someone has been able to break through what everyone else sees, but it's hard to imagine."

"I guess you'll have time to get to know him in a few days." Even as I said it, my heart gave a little squeeze at the thought that everything was so close.

Johanna cleared her throat on the other end and shuffled something around. "Yes, I'll make a point of doing so. Look, I should get going. I have some paperwork to take care of and I'm expecting a few phone calls."

"Yeah, I should let you go. I've got stuff to do too."

"I'll talk to you again soon. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. And Mich?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm so glad he found you."

I smiled at that and said goodbye.

* * *

Quasi and I were walking to lunch together when I made the decision to tell him.

"Hey, Kaz," I started while we stopped at our lockers, "What would you do if you were free?"

He looked at me, his face twisting into a befuddled frown. "Free?"

"What if you could get away from everything that ever hurt you? What if you could live somewhere completely different, out of harm's way? What if you were safe?"

"I... don't know." He stared into his locker, eyes distant. "I don't remember feeling safe. I've gotten used to my life, as horrible as it may seem to you. I can't imagine anything else." He paused, as if gathering his thoughts. "Why do you ask?"

I had to take a moment to compose myself, shocked by his nonchalant words. "Oh, uh, well... I wasn't sure if I should tell you or not, but I think I should, if only to prepare you. Things might be changing soon."

"Mich..." he interrupted, eye wide, already concerned, "What did you do?"

"Do you remember the time I came over and had to hide in the cupboard?"

He nodded mutely.

"Well, I had my tablet with me, and I videoed-"

"You didn't!"

"I did." I touched his arm softly, lowering my voice. "The people who investigated your father- they lacked proof. I have that proof, and I'm going to help you. In fact, I've already helped you."

"What did you do?" he asked again, his voice tinged with panic.

"I sent it to Johanna. She's organising everything, and you'll be staying with her while they get everything settled. You're going to get out of that place." I smiled and squeezed his arm. "You're going to be free."

"B-but I- How- I don't-" He stopped and just breathed for a minute, trying to get ahold of his panic, and I realised all too late that the school hallway was probably not a good place to have such an emotional conversation. When he spoke again, his voice was small, afraid. "You... You really think it will work?"

"Definitely."

"I can't believe..." He let out a shaky breath and closed his door, raising his eyes to meet mine. "I-I can't believe you did that."

"What have I told you, Quasi? I can't just stand by and watch things happen." I quickly grabbed my lunch out of my locker and slung my arm around his shoulders (or what I could reach of his shoulders anyway). "Surely you don't think I wouldn't do anything for you by now?"

He turned his head to look at me and found that our faces were only inches apart, and I held my breath, wondering if he was going to kiss me. His eyes flickered over my lips and then up to my eyes, the tips of his ears starting to turn pink, and I smiled and began to lean forward... until he turned away and looked down. Disappointed, I sighed and squeezed his shoulder. He obviously wasn't comfortable with kissing in public, and to tell the truth I wasn't really either. I had just been caught up in the moment, and besides, we hadn't kissed since that day in the library, so it kind of felt overdue. But I could wait. Suspense was supposed to make it better anyway, right?

"Come on, lets go to lunch." I unwrapped my arm from his shoulders and entwined my fingers with his, and we made our way to the eating area.

When we got there, instead of grabbing the last empty table like I was planning to, I led Quasi to the end of a half-full table and smiled brightly. "Hi guys, mind if we sit here?"

They exchanged glances, and one of them shrugged. "Sure, go ahead."

"Thanks." As we moved to grab the seats, Quasi squeezed my hand, and I squeezed it back in a way that I hoped was reassuring. Everyone at the table watched us take our seats across from each other and pull out our lunches, and just as I was starting to wonder if this was really a good idea, a girl I recognised as Holly from the Drama club scooted her chair closer and smiled at us. "You guys are so brave."

I looked at her curiously. "Why?"

"After everything that's happened, you want to sit with us?" She gestured to the rest of the table. "After what we all did? We were so mean! I thought for sure that you'd hate us forever!"

"'Evil' is the word I'd use, but yeah. You were all pretty much on my hit-list for a while." I was only half-joking, and I was gratified to see most of the group look uncomfortable. I shrugged and pulled out a sandwich, echoing the words Quasi had used a little while ago. "But if we held grudges on everyone, it would hurt us more than you. An official apology wouldn't go amiss, though." She nodded and started to speak, but I held up a hand. "To him, not to me."

I could see how taken aback she was, no matter how much she tried to cover it up, but to her credit she did exactly what I asked. "Oh, um, well..." She turned to him, having trouble meeting his eyes. "We're sorry."

The others murmured in agreement.

"Yeah man, it was stupid."

"Yeah, sorry, dude."

Quasi ducked his head in embarrassment and peered at them from behind his bangs. "I-It's ok. I f-forgive you."

I felt my heart swell in my chest as I looked at these people who, only a few months ago, were all for bullying and humiliating my boyfriend, only to turn around and actually be sorry about it now. Maybe they would even learn to accept people like him. Maybe all wasn't lost.

"I guess it's just easy to follow the crowd, right?"

"It's easy to follow Esme." Holly looked down at her hands. "Or it was. She was the 'it' girl. She was in charge. I know a lot of us would've done anything to be in her favour. God, it sounds so stupid now, but that's the way it was."

"And now?"

She shrugged. "She was wrong. We were all wrong. It's not fair to anyone. I don't want to be a bully, and I don't want to follow someone around like a dog."

I smiled at her. "It takes a strong person to admit they were wrong. Well done."

"I'll never be as strong as you, though."

"Me?" I laughed incredulously. "How am I strong?"

Quasi looked up with the most ridiculously amazed face I had ever seen him wear, and Holly snorted, shaking her head. "How are you not? You stood up to Esme, you punched her boyfriend in the face, you stood up for him," she gestured to Quasi, who was nodding vigorously with her every word. "You did something that no-one else was willing to do, and you didn't care what anyone said. I wouldn't have been able do any of that."

"But you should've! I only did what everyone else should've done!" I protested. "I stood by for so long, just watching, until I couldn't take it anymore, and then instead of thinking things through, I was an idiot and lashed out. Maybe I'm a decent human being. Maybe I'm defiant and rebellious. But I'm not strong. You have no idea how many times I wimped out of something or waited too long because I was scared." I wasn't sure why I was so intent on shooting down their opinions of me, but I did know this- if I was strong, I wouldn't have waited so long to give Johanna the proof she needed, just because I wanted to do the dumb concert with Quasi. I wouldn't have been so afraid to tell Quasi my feelings for him. I wouldn't have made everything complicated by falling in love in the first place. I wouldn't be constantly distracting myself in hope that I wouldn't have to confront the things that would eventually break my heart. I wasn't strong.

Holly stared at me for a minute, surprised at my outburst, then shrugged and went back to her lunch. "Fine, whatever you say. What you did was still pretty cool. And Esme is mental now, so that's a plus."

One of the boys snorted. "That bitch needs a shrink. She's crazier than all my ex's combined."

I laughed. "Yeah, did you hear about the dumb pranks she pulled on me last week?"

"I saw the tampon thing." Holly giggled. "Can you imagine buying that many tampons at once? What a weirdo!"

"I know, right? She tried to slime me on Thursday. She missed."

"We should slime her." She smiled at my expression. "What? I'm serious! I'd be happy to help you get revenge on her. She slimed you, you slime her back."

I nodded, the idea sounding logical to my trigger-happy mind. I glanced at Quasi, only to find him watching me with an uneasy look in his green eyes. I cocked my head at him. "What is it?"

"I-I..." He looked down, biting his lip. "I don't want revenge. I-I don't want to make things worse. Can't we j-just leave it?"

And just like that, the idea of revenge didn't sound that great anymore. Because he was right- revenge would solve nothing. It would only add fuel to the stupid feud that we had going. I smiled proudly and reached for his hand, then faced the group. "I swear you guys, this guy keeps me on the straight and narrow. And he's absolutely right. We can live without getting revenge. We don't need to sink to her level."

Holly watched us, chin resting on one hand, her eyes flickering from our faces to our clasped hands, until the biggest grin I had ever seen spread over her face. I squeezed Quasi's hand before retracting it self-consciously, clearing my throat. "What?"

She shook her head, trying and failing to suppress her wide smile. "Nothing."

"What is it?" I insisted.

"Nothing! You just so..."

"Cute? So I've heard."

"I was going to say happy, but that works too." She paused, then continued. "I can see why, too. Life hasn't exactly been easy for you," she turned to Quasi and managed to give him a small smile before having to turn away, "but then she comes along and does all this stuff for you. Your relationship was inevitable. And I guess it's nice to have someone to take of, hey?" This was directed at me.

"Yeah," I agreed, realising she was right.

"And that's what makes it so sweet. You two have this bond and you need each other and everyone can see how happy you make each other. It's a rare thing."

"Yeah," I said again, smiling a little.

By this time, Quasi had taken refuge behind his hair, embarrassed by Holly and her enthusiasm about us. I had the greatest urge to smooth his red locks out of his face so that I could see his eyes, but I held back and instead nudged his leg with my foot. He looked up, peering through his fringe, and I held his green gaze for a lot longer than I should've, considering how many people were watching us. I just wanted to get away, now. It had been my idea to socialise, and now I was over it. Maybe if I stared into his eyes long enough, everyone else would disappear.

It must of worked to an extent, because the group eventually decided we were boring and went on with eating and gossiping. Holly tried to include us in the conversation, but as Quasi wasn't inclined to talk and I was completely disinterested in the topics of choice, she finally left us alone and rejoined the group. Quasi and I finished eating and got up together, and I waved goodbye to the group and led us away. As we only had a few minutes of lunch left, we headed towards our lockers to get our books for next period, and I decided to bring up the upcoming situation again.

"I just want you to be happy. I know its not easy to think about, but your life will be so much better after he's gone. I hope you're not angry."

He shook his head quickly, meeting my eyes. "I'm not angry. I-I'm just afraid."

"I know." I wanted to tell him that I was, too, but the reasons for my fear were different, and though they were on the tip of my tongue, I didn't want to burden him with them. I swallowed them down and brought up something else instead. "Speaking of, I think you should tell him that were aren't together anymore."

"What?"

"He doesn't like me, and seeing as everything needs to be perfect for your escape, it would be wise not to antagonise him. Let him think that he's won, that he still has control over your life, and he will never suspect a thing." I didn't know if any of this was true, but it had to be better than the current difficulty Quasi was in. "And it goes without saying that if he finds out any of this, we're screwed."

"Of course." He sounded troubled, and rightly so- this was a lot to take in, and knowing him, he would probably worry himself to death before Wednesday.

"Hey." I smiled and tried to sound encouraging, though I wasn't much more positive than he was. "It'll work out. Everything will be fine, you'll see." I knew just telling him to cheer up wouldn't do much, but it was the best I had. Hopefully it would be enough last us until Wednesday. We would just have to see.

* * *

_**Not much to say. Hopefully everything will come to a head in the next chapter or so, as Mich and Johanna put their plan into action. Will they succeed? Will there be a happy ending? What will happen to our pair as the decisions made affect their lives and change everything they know? Pfft, I don't even know.**_

_**Any ideas or suggestions? Should I stretch it out for another chapter before the important stuff happens? I love feedback so drop me a line or two.**_

_**Thanks for reading, and see you next time :)**_


	30. How Far We've Come

_**Hello my fine readers! I have a brand new chapter for you, and I'd like to apologize for being late as usual. Thanking you for waiting so patiently- I kinda feel like this chapter was worth the wait... I think you'll see why :)**_

_**Thanks to Anony mouse101 and kamikaze-djali for your reviews.**_

_**Uploading stuff to to the website on a half-broken tablet is hell, by the way. Just so you know.**_

_**Ok, on we go!**_

* * *

_Waking up at the start of the end of the world,_  
_But it's feeling just like every other morning before,_  
_Now I wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone,_  
_The cars are moving like a half a mile an hour_  
_And I started staring at the passengers who're waving goodbye_  
_Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?_

_I believe the world is burning to the ground_  
_Oh well I guess we're gonna find out_  
_Let's see how far we've come_  
_Let's see how far we've come_  
_Well I believe it all is coming to an end_  
_Oh well, I guess, we're gonna pretend,_  
_Let's see how far we've come_  
_Let's see how far we've come_

_'Lets See How Far We've Come'- Matchbox 20._

* * *

"I can't do this."

"Yes you can."

"I can't do this!"

"Yes you can."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"I-"

"You know I'm not going to let up, right?"

The boy in the green sweater peeked at me through his fingers, his face hidden in his hands. I could hear how quickly he was breathing, almost hyperventilating, and the waver in his voice that made it sound like he was near tears, and for a moment my heart twisted and I was tempted to call the whole thing off. Anything to take away that visibly crippling fear and tortured expression. I didn't want him to feel this way- it was painful to see his reaction and know that it was kind of my fault. But this was important. This was for us... for him. And he couldn't let fear control his life anymore. I wouldn't let him do that to himself.

He took a deep breath and met my eyes, his voice shaky and pleading. "B-but I-I can't! I can't do this!"

"Saying it multiple times isn't going to change my mind."

He groaned and buried his face his hands again, and I sighed, waiting.

It was Wednesday morning, the day of the concert. It was the day everything would change, and I had been expecting a reaction like this. Tuesday had been easy. Quasi was quiet, contemplative, happy to sit with our new friends and eager to practice our song. Today, though, we were supposed to be practising one last time and he was having a nervous breakdown, and I was stuck between wanting to be all 'tough luck' with him and just hugging him forever.

"I'm not going to let you back out of this now," I said finally. "Do you know why?"

He didn't answer.

"Because I know that you can do this, and I know that you'll be awesome. Because I'll be with you almost the whole time, and I won't let anything bad happen. And because tonight will be the best thing that will ever happen to you, and I want to make it easier for you."

I watched him take a great, shuddering breath and let it out, and then I scooted over and wrapped my arm around his back, leaning my head on his shoulder. Despite the heat of the approaching summer and the stuffiness of the room, sharing his warmth wasn't uncomfortable, and as I sat with him, waiting for him to calm down, I started to feel drowsy.

Maybe that was the reason my mind started wandering. Maybe it was my tiredness lowering my mind-barriers or something, but I starting to think how nice it was to just sit with him and do nothing, and how I would never get tired of being with him, and how, when all this was said and done, I would have to have him over and show him the wonders of Netflix and everything on a screen that he had missed, get him into all my fandoms, have long conversations into the night and share our artistic creations with each other and-

The reality of the situation came back to me suddenly, hitting me like a ton of bricks. We wouldn't ever get a chance to do that stuff. Our time together was limited. Of course there was the tiniest possibility that he might be able to stay in the area, but Johanna had said that it would be very unlikely, that she was considering all the options and working with child services and that, as difficult as it might be, I needed to be prepared to say goodbye. I thought I was, but now I wondered if I would ever be ready. I prided myself on having a lid on my most vulnerable side, but I could feel myself cracking at the edges.

I tightened my grip around Quasi and squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears that pushed at the corners of my eyes to disappear. I didn't need this right now.

Thank god for the knock at the door.

I reluctantly unwrapped myself from around him and unlocked the door, smiling at the sight of my three excited friends waiting to come in. "Hey, guys!"

"Are you busy?" Em asked, thinly veiled curiosity hidden behind her brown eyes.

I looked over my shoulder, where Quasi was still hunched over his guitar, brooding. I knew that there was a great possibility he didn't actually want to talk to anyone, but I also knew that it wasn't healthy to hide from people. I wasn't really in a sociable mood myself, but I couldn't kick out my friends. So I shrugged and opened the door for them to come in. "Just keep it down a bit, OK? Quasi's kinda nervous about tonight."

The girls filed in and grabbed some chairs from the back of the room. Beck put hers right next to Quasi and tapped his shoulder lightly. "Oh, I'm sure everything will be fine. You guys are really good."

Dez nodded. "Yeah, we heard the recording you did. You have an awesome voice."

Of course they wouldn't know just how little the concert mattered compared to what was really going to happen that night. I picked up my guitar and dropped into my chair, hoping the girls wouldn't overdo it on the praise.

"Everyone knows you'll be great. You just have to believe in yourself." That was Em, getting deep at the most random times.

Quasi lifted his head and contemplated the far wall. "Believe in myself," he repeated slowly.

"Yeah, when you believe you can do it, it'll be easy. You'll do great, don't worry."

"Yeah, Quasi, don't worry! You're gonna own that stage!"

"Everyone will love you."

He raised his eyes to meet Em's. "Really?"

And for the first time since she had met him, I saw Em look straight into his eyes without having to look away immediately, and smile. "Of course. You and Mich together. It'll be the best thing we've ever seen."

I knew he wasn't convinced yet. I knew it wasn't the stage he was worried about, at least not at this moment. But their sentiments helped him all the same. He may still have been worried sick and terrified of what he knew he had to do, but the encouragement was good for him, and I suppose that was all that mattered. Maybe I was wrong and he did need other people after all.

Beck pulled out a pack of cards then, with a wicked glint in her eye. "Well, I think you need a distraction. Guess what I brought?"

I grinned and lowered my guitar to the floor. "Tell me that's Cards Against Humanity. I am so up for that."

Everyone gravitated to our table, and I nudged Quasi gently. "Hey, wanna play?"

"Ok." His reply was almost a whisper, but it was good enough.

We entertained ourselves for the next 20 minutes, and I was very happy to see Quasi laughing along with everyone else. I was proud of him- and of the girls, who had all accepted and rallied around him like the awesome people they were. And then I realised that if... when he left, he wouldn't just be leaving me. He would be leaving them too. And while it wouldn't cut them up too badly, he was leaving a safe haven. He was leaving people who accepted him and weren't afraid to include him in things and were his friends. We would be losing one person. He would be losing everyone.

_Ugh, way to make things depressing._

"Another round?" Em asked, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

I suddenly didn't want to play anymore. "What do you want to do?" I asked Quasi. "I mean, we haven't finished practicing yet..."

"Oh, did we interrupt you?" Dez was immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry. Should we leave?"

"No, no-"

"Actually we should!" Beck stood up and started to collect her cards. "If we hear it now, it won't be as special tonight. Let's go, guys."

"Good point." Em stood up too, and motioned for Dez to join her. "Don't think we're ditching you. We just don't want to spoil the surprise. It was nice playing with you, Quasi."

Grumbling, Dez let herself be pulled away, and they filed out, leaving me a little bit dazed at their rapid exit. "Well, that was... interesting." I sighed. "Sorry I let them take over the place."

"No, it was... good." Quasi nodded to himself, looking a little more alive than he did before. "They're... nice."

"And right. About everything. You just need to believe in yourself. I know you've been taught otherwise, but you can do anything- even change your whole life around."

"H-how can you be so sure?"

"Because I just can. You know you don't even have to do much. Just sneak out and let everyone else's take care of the rest. You've done it before, right? You snuck out without anyone's help."

"That was a disaster."

"It doesn't matter. It shows that you can do anything if you put your mind to it. And the best bit is that you won't have to worry about coming home. You just have to get out. You can do that, can't you?" He was silent, and I leaned over and looked up at him, leaning my head on his arm. "Hey?"

He just breathed for a while, and then I leaned up and pecked him on the cheek, and he reddened. "I suppose," he muttered softly, and I grinned.

"That's what I like to hear." I rubbed his back and scooted away to grab my guitar. "Ok, lets try this again."

The practice session went well, and by the time we were finished, I couldn't wipe the grin off my face.

_I think we're ready_.

* * *

Of course my confidence couldn't last.

For all the pretty words, all the assurances and insistence that everything would be fine, by the time the afternoon rolled around I was a nervous mess. I felt like there was a coil in my chest, wound tight and ready to spring open and burst through my chest at a moments notice. I had to make a conscious effort to not let my hands shake or let my true feelings show on my face lest Quasi realise that I didn't actually have it together as much as I said I did. Someone had to be strong, right?

Music was the last class of the day, if you could call it class. We were told to do something music-related and keep the noise down, and so I pulled my earphones out and brought up my music. While I was browsing the lists of songs, I asked Quasi if he had told Frollo about us 'breaking up'.

He nodded soberly. "He was very happy to tell me 'I told you so'. And he said some pretty awful things about you."

"Like what?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, the usual. That you're rude, disrespectful and dishonest, and that you were only playing with my feelings, and that you looked like a-" Here he stopped and cleared his throat, flushing red to his roots. "Um, you look like a... not very nice... girl. And that you were probably just experimenting, and you're definitely much happier without me hanging around, and that even girls like you wouldn't want to get close to someone like me, and-"

"Wait, wait- did he call me a slut?" I asked quietly.

He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, as if fearing my reaction.

Despite my anger at the slur, I had to stifle a laugh. If there was anything I looked like, it wasn't that.

"Wow, he's really grasping at straws." I shook my head "I've heard more creative insults from children."

"You-you're not angry?"

"Oh, I'm furious. But not because of his childish meanness. I'm angry because it brings him pleasure to make you feel bad."

A throat cleared, loudly and deliberately, and I glanced over at Miss Basso, who was staring at us from her desk. Obviously we were too loud, or didn't look busy enough. I nodded and gave Quasi an earphone, and we got out our notebooks. He drew and I wrote while we listened to music for the rest of the lesson.

When the bell rang, Quasi's head snapped up and he met my eyes, growing pale. I just knew that in the few hours we would be apart this afternoon, he was going to work himself into the nervous wreck he was that morning. Knowing there was really nothing I could do about it, I stayed with him while he packed up his stuff and walked him to the door that led to the waiting area..

Where a police car was already waiting, a familiar figure peering through the window.

The sight was so unexpected that i stopped dead and nearly dropped my bag. "Flipping hell!" Hoping that he hadn't noticed us yet (or at least recognised me), I slammed the door shut and took a moment to calm my heart. "What's he doing here so early?"

"I don't know." He was holding his bag strap so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, and I could almost feel the panic that tinged his voice. "I d-don't know, I don't know... I can't think of anything..."

"It'll be OK." I grabbed his hands and squeezed them, forcing him to look at me. "Hey, it'll be fine. It doesn't matter. Just go home and wait for me. I'll be there about 5 or 6. Be ready to leave before 5. And don't make him suspicious." He nodded, mouth set and brow furrowed, and I opened the door again, just enough for him to slip through. A horn sounded outside, and we both jumped, then I rubbed his shoulder and gave him a little push. "Now go. You'll be fine. See you in a few hours."

He was terrified- I could see it in his tense shoulders and clenched fists- but he walked out the door with all the grace he could muster and I watched him jump the fence and get in the car as naturally as he could under the circumstances.

I closed the door and let out a long breath. He would be fine. We would be fine. It would be OK.

* * *

I went home with Dez, sandwiched between my friend and her little sister. For once, I was glad to be subjected to the little girl's idle chatter, for in the primary school gossip I found solace from the panic attack I could feel creeping up on me. I needed to realise that telling myself it would be fine didn't make it true. When Karen ran out of school anecdotes to tell me, Dez kept me talking about holiday plans and room decorations and horses, and I let myself be distracted. I think she understood, to a point, that I was just as worried and nervous as Quasi about our musical part, though I don't think she could even begin to guess why. She knew our plan involved sneaking out, but the rest was a complete mystery. However much she knew, she also knew how to keep me calm, and for that I was grateful.

When we got home, Dez disappeared into her room to change and practice, and I fixed myself a snack and interrogated her brother Richie about work. We chatted for a while about my future job opportunities and my driving and Marvel movies. But no matter how much I kept myself busy, I still found myself glancing at the clock every 5 minutes. I even trailed off mid-conversation a few times, not distracted by anything in particular, but simply because I lost my train of thought in my underlying nervousness.

Dez came out some time later and asked if I had brought a change of clothes, to which the answer was a bewildered 'no'. To tell the truth I hadn't even thought about what I'd wear onstage. She offered to lend me an outfit and I let myself be dragged to her room, where we tried to find me something that would actually fit. I was horribly reminded of the fact that while we used to be able to share clothes, she had lost weight over the years and I hadn't, and she had replaced her wardrobe- probably the one thing I didn't want to think about more than that night's activities. Then I realised that it was probably the worst thing to have to think about, as my outfit kind of hinged on the whole sneaking out thing- what could I wear that was cute and stylish, actually fit me, and was practical for climbing through windows and running for my life?

And the awful coil in my chest was back. Yay.

By the time I settled on the green cargo pants and black T-shirt that was a little too tight for me, it was time to go. I sped into the bathroom, took a quick pee, ran a brush through my hair, and sighed at my reflection. This was as good as it was going to get. I didn't have time to refresh my makeup, and seeing as I was going to be on a stage, it didn't really matter anyway.

Dez came in, dressed head to toe in black as the band members were supposed to be, and held out a few items of jewelry. "Here. They don't suit me, and you need a little bling."

I took them- a chunky chain with a strangely shaped clasp, and a leather bracelet with dangly metal bits- and pocketed them to put on later. "Are you ready?"

She gave me a searching look. "Are you?"

_No_. "Yes."

"Let's go then."

* * *

It took a moment to get my bearings, but I was able to direct our driver to Notre-Dame Court, while using Dez's phone to text Johanna to ask where she was. Upon her answer that she was 5 minutes away, I got Dez's mum to park at the end of the street instead of in front of a house, and almost fell out of the car and sprinted to number 14.

I didn't want to go in without Johanna there to distract Frollo, but I also didn't want to loiter outside the house and attract attention, so I gulped and jumped the fence quickly, hurrying around the side to Quasi's window. Peeking in, I saw the room was empty, so I leaned against the house and waited, shivering a little in the soft breeze that was too cool for December.

_Great, I'm not dressed for a cold night. Come on guys, where are you?_

The sound of an engine crept through the air just as the phone vibrated in my hand. I'm here, read the text, and I tiptoed over to the front corner and waved at her as she got out of the car. 'Let's go,' she mouthed, and I nodded and went back to the window.

A knock at the door. Silence, then a creak and muffled voices, and suddenly there was movement on the other side of the glass. Quasi came in with a half-eaten sandwich and I tapped on the glass, and he opened the window excruciatingly slowly so as not to make a noise.

"Ready to go?" I whispered.

He nodded, his face pale and pinched, and pushed a backpack through the window. Then he paused and looked at me. "D-do you want a jumper? You look cold."

"Yeah, OK, thanks. If you're quick."

He ducked under the bed, out of sight, and I heard the rustle of paper and small objects, and then a thump and a small 'oof!'. He came back up and passed me a black jumper, along with the report that it sounded like Johanna and Frollo were in the dining room. I slipped the jumper over my head and held out a hand to help him out of the window, and he stuck his head outside, looking unsure.

"What's wrong? Forgotten how to do it?"

'I-Its been a while." He frowned and pushed the window up a little more, and we both froze as it produced a scraping sound that was much to loud for our tastes. When it didn't sound like anyone had heard, Quasi eased himself onto the windowsill and tried to swing his legs around... and simultaneously banged the sill with his head and kicked the wall with his feet.

There was absolute silence, then: "Don't you walk away from me, Claude!"

Our eyes met, terror mirrored in green and brown. _Oh God..._

Everything seemed to slow down after that.

The door opened behind Quasi and he was yanked out of the window. I heard the thump when he hit the floor and only just stifled a scream of fright.

"What do you think you're doing?" Frollo's voice was cold with rage. I peeked inside to find Quasi lying on the floor, eyes wide and white as a sheet, Frollo standing over him with clenched fists and Johanna in the doorway, her face every inch showing just how much she realised the plan had gone to pot.

"I said..." Frollo grabbed Quasi's collar and lifted him slightly, making them eye to eye. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I-I-I'm j-just... I-I'm not... I-I-I was only..." Quasi was a terrible liar at the best of times, so nothing said here was going to make the situation better. Someone had to intervene. Where was the cavalry that Johanna had promised?

Frollo glanced at Johanna and suddenly kicked the door shut, leaving Quasi for a moment to jam it with something. Johanna cried out in panic and started banging on the door. "Wait! Claude, open the door! Don't hurt him! Claude! Don't hurt the boy!"

Frollo sneered and picked up Quasi by his collar again, lifting him off the floor and leaning him over his desk. "You were going to leave, weren't you?"

"N-n-no, I-I-I..."

"Yes you were. You were about to climb out that window. What have I told you, Quasimodo? What have I told you about leaving this house?"

Quasi couldn't even speak at this point, completely taken over by fear as he was, hands shaking and flinching at every word Frollo spat at him. As for me, I was frozen to the spot, unable to believe that our carefully thought out plans were crumbling down around our heads.

Frollo gave Quasi a vicious shake, looking half-crazed. "You stupid, ugly, little imp, are you really that thick? What. Have. I. Told. You?"

"Th-th-that I c-cant go out b-because p-people will hate me and p-people like me d-don't d-deserve to b-be around normal p-people..." Quasi gasped out.

"And...?"

"A-and you're only t-t-trying to p-protect me b-because the world is cruel and wicked and you're the only one I-I-I c-can t-trust."

"Right." Frollo threw Quasi to the ground again, prompting Johanna to start banging on the door again.

"Claude! Stop it!" She sounded like she was crying. "God damn it, Claude, open this door!"

Frollo kicked at the door, halting Johanna's hysterics for the moment, and turned back to Quasi, raising a fist. "You obviously haven't learnt enough from your last little outing. I think you need a little reminder."

"P-please..." Quasi whimpered, covering his face in preparation for the first blow.

And Frollo hit him.

And hit him.

I don't know how I got into the room, but suddenly there I was, jumping off the bed and shoving Frollo away. He hit the chest of drawers with a grunt and nearly fell over, but righted himself and stared at me, a little smirk crawling over his evil face. "Well, if it isn't the little skank. You lied to me, I see. Look at her, pretending that she actually cares about you, how sweet. We're you planning on taking him out tonight? Corrupting his mind and playing with his feelings so you can laugh at his innocence?"

"Stop it." It wasn't until I spoke that I realised I had been screaming as I jumped through the window- my throat was hoarse and scratchy. "Just leave him alone."

Before I realised he was moving, he had grabbed my arms and pulled me close to him. His cold grey eyes pierced mine, and his breath washed over my face, sharp and sour. "You don't get to tell me what to do, child," he sneered, tightening his grip and making me cry out in fear and pain... and anger.

"Let me go, you fudging twit!" I shrieked, because that always works. I tried and failed to wrench myself of of his grip, and gave him my best death-stare. "You're a maniac, you know that? And a bad policeman. You've been abusing your son all his life, telling him lies about the world and making him believe he's practically a monster, when the real monster is you!"

"Shut up!" He growled, looking extremely dangerous, but I continued on undeterred.

"You love destroying people's lives, you love the power you hold over them, and you bully people into doing what you want. You're a sadistic ass who feeds off pain and misery. You've destroyed Quasi's self-esteem and belief in himself and you're quite happy to continue destroying his life but you won't. You won't." I started to squirm and kick. "I won't let you hurt him anymore!"

"You won't let me?_ You_ won't let _me?"_ He started to shake me roughly, causing me to cry out again. "Who are you, girl? Who the hell do you think you are?" He freed one hand to grab my hair, forcing my head to be still. "You're nobody, that's who you are. A filthy little nobody who doesn't know how to keep out of things that don't concern her. You won't let me. Ha!"

Whatever I had wanted to accomplish by charging to the rescue had fled my brain. My mind had clouded over with strength of my emotions and now I could only think of three things: he was crazy, i had antagonised him, and now I was going to die.

Frollo laughed at my terror and pain, a truly insane cackle, and flung me away, where I hit the wall and collapsed to the floor. I think I hit my head, but I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure of anything. Not until I realised that I didn't want to die in a bedroom at the hands of a psychopathic madman did I open my eyes and see that the dynamics had changed. My vision was a bit wonky, but I managed to make out Frollo being held over the bed by Quasi.

Wait, that can't be right...

I frowned and forced my eyes open properly to find that yes, it was Quasi who was standing over Frollo who had turned into a flailing idiot within the last 10 seconds.

"Don't. You. Touch. Her." It was more of a growl than anything else, and it was one of the strangest things I had ever seen or heard- shy, gentle, scared Quasimodo, being even remotely threatening. It took a moment for it to click that he was defending me.

The mad glint in Frollo's eyes had faded, replaced with horror. "N-now, listen to me, Quasimodo..."

"No, YOU listen!" Quasi released his step-father roughly, causing the older man to slip off the bed and onto the floor. Standing over him, hands clenched into fists, even shaking and stammering still, Quasi looked like a force to be reckoned with. "All m-my life you've told me that the world is a d-dark and cruel place, but now I see that the only thing cruel and dark about it is p-people like YOU! N-not everyone is like you. N-not everyone is afraid of being different. That girl has t-tried to help me so many times, and whatever you try to say, she DOES care about me. You may have ruined my life, but I will n-not let you ruin hers."

You could've cut the silence with a knife. I did it with a cough. "Well said."

I winced as I started to ease myself up, and Quasi immediately rushed over to me. "A-are you OK?"

I let him help me up and smiled at his concern. "I'm fine. Really, I am." Movement over his shoulder caught my eye, and I pushed him to the side just in time to punch Frollo in the face. He staggered back with a groan and fell back into the floor, and I scowled and cradled my hand to my chest. "See? Perfectly fine."

Before anyone to do anything else, Johanna gave a muffled cry of triumph from behind the door as a number of car doors slammed in the driveway and someone hammered at the front door. I sighed with relief and grabbed Quasi's hand.

"The cavalry's here. That's our cue."

We pulled away the books that were jamming the door, and as Johanna went to answer the front door, we hurried to the window and climbed out as fast as we could. Making sure there were no policemen in the yard, we jumped the fence and raced down the street to where Dez's mum was patiently waiting for us.

* * *

After apologizing profusely for taking so long and making up a lame excuse, the ride to school was silent. Both Quasi and I were a bit shocked by what had just happened, and as I ran over the events in my head, I felt like something huge had just been accomplished. Our worst fears had come true, but here we were. We had survived. We were free.

* * *

_**Ok so I had this whole scene planned out in my head, right? Only I didn't actually write it down. Up until last night, when I was writing the confrontation, I had the whole speech and everything, word for word... and then the time comes to write, and its gone. Zip. Zero. I had to start from scratch and wrack my brain trying to figure out what I wanted to convey in this scene. Basically, the confrontation is very different from what I wanted it to be. Thanks, brain. Love you too.**_

_**So anyway, there you go! Review, and tell me what you thought! I'm eager to hear what you have to say :)**_


	31. Everything Has Changed

**_ I'm slightly quicker at updating this time, simply because I wanted to get this done._**

**_Thanks to _**_**kamikaze-djali and Anony mouse101 for your reviews.**_

* * *

Quasi didn't let go of my hand throughout the ride there. Dez glanced at us a few times, taking in our clasped hands and the enormous jumper I hadn't been wearing before, but didn't try to bring anything up. She and her mum talked about instruments, and I put in a few words now and then, just so she wouldn't wonder what was wrong with us. When we picked up Em and Bex, the car filled with mindless chatter and kept us from being the focal point of conversation. They greeted Quasi warmly and then talked about unimportant things, trying to distract Dez's mum from the fact that I very probably had a boyfriend. As she was good friends with my mother, it wasn't in my best interests for her to know about us yet. She did try to get Quasi talking for a little while until I explained that he was nervous about his performance and was a bit distracted. She left him alone after that.

I don't think he heard a word about anything from anyone the whole time, not even when we arrived at the school, thanked Dez's mum, and headed to the art room to get our guitars. When the door shut behind us, I fell against it and let out a breath, dropping Quasi's hand to run my fingers through my hair. My heart was starting to slow down and my mental confusion was starting to dissipate. I could almost think clearly again. While Quasi wandered aimlessly over to a chair, I took a couple of deep breaths and held my hands up in front of me, checking for injuries.

The red marks caused by Frollo's grip on my arms had almost faded, and though one of my wrists was a bit sore, it didn't feel bad enough to affect my playing. The back of my head still ached from when he pulled my hair, and I had a bump on my scalp where I had hit the wall that stung when I pressed it, but these things were pretty minor. I think my only problem at that point twas shock. I was sure I was supposed to feel a lot more emotion about beating up my boyfriend's father and helping to liberate him from tyranny, but maybe that would come later. Everything else seemed to be OK. Satisfied, I pulled a chair next to Quasi and touched his shoulder.

"Hey. How's it going?"

He blinked, tried to say something, and shook his head, and I sighed and brushed my fingers over his cheek. He looked up and met my eyes, skin growing warm under my touch, and I almost leaned in for a kiss before remembering why we were here.

"Are you injured?"

"Um.." He looked at his arms, frowning in confusion, and I shook my head. He looked totally spaced out, and I could just imagine the conflict that was going on in his mind. He had just done the unthinkable, and now everything must've felt surreal.

I squeezed his hand, trying to bring his mind into the now. "Hey, you. Are you hurt?"

"I-I don't think so." He shook his head, eyes coming back into focus, and he looked at me, still looking stunned. "I-I can't..."

"Yes?" I prodded.

He took a deep breath and let it out. "I-I can't believe I did that. I can't..." He shook his head again, and I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his, stopping the movement.

"But you did. You stood up to him and made him listen to you. You defended me, which was awesome. And now he's gone. He can never hurt you again, because you did a very brave thing and stopped him. You did that. You should be proud of yourself."

"Y-you..." He cleared his throat. "You helped. I-I wouldn't have b-been able to do it without you."

"Well... yeah." I wanted to tell him that it was all him, but I had to admit that I did help a lot. Not wanting to dwell on it anymore, I pulled away and stood up. "Come on. We should get to the hall."

He nodded slowly and straightened up. "Ok."

We grabbed our guitars and headed to the hall. I wanted to walk slowly, enjoy a spontaneous moonlit stroll while i had the chance, but the concert had already started with the junior band, and arriving after the start time wasn't looked upon favourably. So we hurried, and I found myself humming along to the tune they were playing as we slipped in the backstage door and grabbed a loose program.

One of the backstage students, a bored-looking senior with a clipboard, approached us, and I had a quick chat to him about our performance and times, and he suggested that I take off my jumper, as the lights onstage put out a lot of heat. I did, and we talked for a bit about the possibility of going back out at the end if the other solo guy didn't show up, and then I came back to Quasi to give him a run-down.

"Alright, so the juniors have 3 more songs, then the strings ensemble have 4, and then it's us before the intermission. Not the best slot, since everyone's hanging on for a break by then, but it is what it is. Do you want to practice a bit?"

He nodded, and we found a corner where we wouldn't be bothered and started to play. Only bits and pieces, the harder parts like quick changes and the chords I still had trouble stretching my hands around. Our practice had gone extremely well earlier that afternoon, so I was confident in our abilities. I just hoped Quasi wouldn't be too distracted when we got up there.

When we'd figured everything out and run through the song once, we found some seats off to the side and just relaxed and listened to the performances. Well, I say relaxed, but cringed is probably a better word. It wasn't every song, just some of them, but I wasn't a big fan of school orchestras. Especially strings. Multiple violins, cellos and double-basses in the hands of 11-15 year olds sounded more like loud, buzzing insects than instruments for beautiful music. But maybe that was too harsh- these kids practiced more than we did and put a lot of effort into their pieces. I knew that more than anybody- Angie had been playing violin since she was 7, and at 13 she was only now starting to sound listenable.

I suddenly came back to earth when the violins played a particularly loud note. My heart gave a great thump as I realised exactly why I was here. I was about to go on stage, in front of a few hundred people... And I was going to sing and play an instrument. This was bad. I couldn't put myself out there like that. I just knew that I would go out there and make a fool out of myself. Not that I cared what other people thought of me. Much. Oh who was i kidding- of course I did. I was going to look like such an idiot. I couldn't do this. I couldn't do it. I could-

_No. Stop it. You can do this._

_No, I really can't._

_Do you realise how pathetic you sound?_

I scowled. _Sod off._

_Didn't you just have this conversation with Quasi?_

_But-_

_Didn't you just manage to convince him to do the thing he was terrified of?_

_Yeah, but-_

_You told him he could do anything if he believed in himself._

_This is different._

_Right, because singing on a stage is so much scarier than what you just went through._

_I... Well... You have a point._

_Stop being such a baby. It's money-where-your-mouth-is time._

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to settle the butterflies.

"Are you OK?"

I nodded and opened my eyes, smiling weakly at Quasi. "Yeah. Everything's just become very real, is all. How are you doing?"

"I... I'm OK." He looked down at his guitar, nodding slowly. "I'm OK."

"Are you scared? Of going onstage?" I guess I just wanted a reassurance that I wasn't alone in this.

"Are you?"

_Hell yes._ "A bit."

"A little," he agreed. "But, uh... you're here. As long as you're with me, I know it will be OK."

I don't think I was mentally prepared for an answer like that. I looked at him, dumbstruck, and he held my gaze without fear, something that I wouldn't have thought he would ever be able to do after such a speech. I don't think I had ever wanted to kiss him more than in that moment. And I think he knew it, whether he had read my mind, was able to pick up on really subtle body language, or was thinking the same thing, because his eyes flicked over my lips and he started to lean in, just slightly. My heart skipped a beat and I leaned in too, desperate to close the distance between us but not wanting to move too fast. We were only inches apart when the violins finished with a flourish and the senior called our names, and I stopped and nudged him with an embarrassed grin. "You're so cheesy."

He shyly returned my smile, and we stood up, listening for the announcement. We could hear the vice-principle thanking the strings group for their performances and telling the audience that there was one more act before intermission, and then the senior clapped me on the shoulder and gave me a little push towards the stage entrance.

I squeezed Quasi's hand and whispered, "Ready?"

He nodded. "Ready."

I steeled myself and walked out to the stage, blinking as the light focused on us and we found the microphones. Waves of people stared at us as we straightened our guitar straps and positioned our fingers on the strings. My heart was hammering so hard i was worried the microphones would pick it up, but as I looked out at the audience, I caught sight of Dez at the back of the hall, and Em and Bex somewhere in the middle, all waving and giving me thumbs up, and i realised it was going to be fine. I could do this.

I leaned into my mic and let my eyes roam over the many faces looking up at me. "Hi, everyone. I, uh, just wanted to say a few words before we start. Some of you here might not be aware, but there have been a lot of changes this year. So much stuff has happened and I won't go into all of it now, but I want you guys to remember the last time someone was up on this stage. Think about what happened, how certain people were treated, and how things have been since then. And I want all of you who were ever bullied, laughed at, teased, or beaten up to think of tonight when things get tough. Don't live in fear, hoping what happened up here in September won't happen to you. Remember us, up here tonight, and don't give up. Because this song is for you. It's not just about love- its about change. Never give up hope that things will change for you like some things have changed this year. Don't give up." I smiled and glanced at Quasi, who was watching me with shining eyes. "Never give up. You are worth it."

I had run out of things to say, so I took a moment to center myself. Then, with a deep breath, I nodded to Quasi, and struck the first chord.

"All I knew

This morning when I woke

Is I know something now, know something now I didn't before

And all I've seen

since 18 hours ago

is green eyes and freckles and your smile-" I paused for a millisecond to wink at Quasi.

"In the back of my mind making me feel like,

I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now..."

At this point, Quasi jumped in quietly, just loud enough to be heard underneath my vocals.

"I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just want to know, you know you know you..."

And because I was a soppy romantic who applied everything in songs to real life, my mind started making connections to us as we sang. Memories and disjointed comments brought themselves up without my permission with every phrase.

"Cause all I know is we said hello," _our first conversation..._

"And your eyes look like coming home," _I could spend hours staring at them..._

"All I know is a simple name," _simple like Kaz?_

"Everything has changed," _oh yes it has..._

"All I know is you held the door," _remember when he held the door open for you when you were running from Esme? Cause I do..._

"You'll be mine and I'll be yours," _remember that beautiful scene in the library?_

"All I know since yesterday," _well, a bit longer than yesterday..._

"Is everything has changed."

I took a step back and smiled encouragingly at Quasi, and he closed his eyes and stepped forward to sing his part.

"And all my walls stood tall painted blue

But I'll take them down, take them down and open up the door for you

And all I feel in my stomach is butterflies, the beautiful kind

Making up for lost time, taking flight, making me feel like..."

He visibly relaxed as I joined in again.

"I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just want to know you, know you know you

'Cause all I know is we said hello

And your eyes look like coming home

All I know is a simple name,

everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

You'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

is everything has changed."

We had been turning slightly, just slightly, as we sang, and by the time the bridge came around, we were facing and basically singing to each other.

"Come back and tell me why

I'm feeling like I've missed you all this time

And meet me there tonight

And let me know that it's not all in my mind..."

I stared into his eyes and quirked a smile as I sang by myself.

"I just want to know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just want to know you, know you, know you..."

He jumped in enthusiastically, finally starting to look comfortable in front of everyone. Maybe staring into my eyes helped. I don't know, I don't want to sound vain. Whatever. But it was beautiful.

"Cause all I know is we said hello

And your eyes look like coming home

All I know is a simple name,

everything has changed

All I know is he held the door

You'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

is everything has changed."

I took the last verse, unable to keep the grin off my face, which was annoying since it affected the way I sang. But I was too happy to care too much about it.

"All I know is we said hello

So dust off your highest hopes

All I know is pouring rain

And everything has changed

All I know is a new found grace

All my days, I'll know your face

All I know since yesterday..."

Quasi leaned in and harmonized with me.

"Is everything has changed."

The last note was held a little longer, the last chord was struck, and we stared into each other's eyes, a little out of breath, as the silence took the place of our music.

And then, the hall erupted with sound.

* * *

I had never heard such applause. We stood on that stage, staring at each other, wondering if all that noise was for us and thanking the heavens that it was over, until the vice-principle came back on the stage and thanked us enthusiastically for our wonderful performance. I suppose that was our cue to leave, as he then went on to point out the food stands at the back of the hall and encouraged everyone to spend all of their money, and reminded them of the upcoming raffle, and dismissed them to go enjoy their intermission. But even as some people started to move around and talk and socialise, many continued to clap and whoop and whistle. It was surreal, to have that many people show appreciation for something I had done, and I realised that I had been an idiot. There had never been anything to worry about. I was much better than I had given myself credit for, and I needed to start believing in myself, just I had told Quasi to. As for him, he looked just as bewildered as I felt, but gradually he began to smile as the clapping and general noise faded into conversations and movement, and as we stepped away from the microphones, he beamed at me joyfully.

"That... was awesome."

I took off my guitar and threaded my arm through his, giving it a squeeze. "That it was, Kaz. That it was."

* * *

I almost kissed him again. As we made our way out the backstage door, accepting compliments from staff as we did, I almost convinced myself to jump up and sweep him off his feet with a dizzying smooch. But just when I had gotten the nerve, 3 very familiar voices started shrieking at us, and we were enveloped by hugs from 3 pairs of arms.

"You were great! You were awesome! Didn't we say you'd be awesome?"

"I loved it! I didn't know you could sing like that!"

"Your playing has gotten so good!"

"I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, you guys." I beamed at them, feeling light. "It was fun." I nudged Quasi. "See, told you. Everyone loved you."

He shook his head. "They loved you. They stared at me."

"And then they clapped for you. Give yourself some credit. Give yourself... twelve percent of the credit."

Em snorted, understanding the reference immediately, while Quasi looked quizzical. "Twelve percent?"

"An arguement can be made for fifteen." All 3 of them were laughing now, and I chuckled and patted his arm. "It's a movie reference. In all seriousness, you should take at least fifty percent of the credit, since you sang half the song. What were you saying earlier about not being able to do it yourself?"

"I... guess."

"Good enough. Now, I'm starving. Let's go get some cake before we have to sit down again."

All 5 of us left to find the food table, and soon Dez left to join the band backstage, and we found some seats just as the vice-principle started calling everyone back.

The rest of the concert was great. Sometime during the third musical number, the boy with the clipboard came to find us and explained that the last act of the night wasn't coming, and would we like to take their place? I knew that in terms of a solo act, Quasi would probably be better received than me, as he possessed most of the talent in our duo; and when I said so, it only took the duration of one more song to convince him. I was surprised, actually, by how easy it was. So I gave him a kiss, suggested a song, and let the backstage guy lead him away.

For the next 20 minutes, I focused as much as I could on Dez and the band members. It wasn't too hard, as the program included music from some of my favorite musicals and movie soundtracks, but I was more excited for the end, which made me feel like a terrible friend. I managed to pay attention the whole time, though, so I didn't miss the awesome saxophone solo or the vice-principle jumping up onstage to do an impromptu tap-dance. He was hilarious in his serious grey suit and obvious toupee, dancing lightly across the stage like an overgrown bird, but the laughter he caused was surprised and appreciative, not mocking. I clapped as hard as anyone else when he got down, grinning and wiping his brow, and wished for the umpteenth time in my life that I had learnt how to tap-dance.

And then, the band left, the end was announced, and Quasi walked out onstage. I felt as well as heard the audience hush around me. I found myself digging my nails into my palms and forced myself to relax as he stood in front of the microphone, adjusted his guitar, and closed his eyes. The spotlight found him, bathed him in yellow brightness which highlighted his every imperfection in front of everyone. And then, his fingers strummed the guitar, and he started to sing. And everyone forgot about anything that made them stare before, because the most beautiful rendition of "Everybody Hurts" was coming out of his mouth and floating though the air and twisting around our heads and flowing through our ears like molten honey. Except honey doesn't go in ears and this was much sweeter.

Quasi sang, and I cried like the sap I was and mouthed the words with him.

"Sometimes everything is wrong

Now it's time to sing along

When your day is night alone

If you feel like letting go

If you think you've had too much

Of this life, well hang on..."

Quasi's fingers never faltered, his voice never shook, and he even opened his eyes halfway through the song. He looked right at me, and I smiled real wide and sang the words back at him. By the end of the song, everyone was singing along and swaying.

"Well, everybody hurts sometimes

Everybody cries

Everybody hurts sometimes

And everybody hurts sometimes

So hold on, hold on

Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on

Everybody hurts."

He stopped and let out a big breath, stepping back as the audience erupted in applause. I don't know how long it lasted, because I left my seat and ran out of the hall and around to the backstage door to wait for him to come out. When he did, I threw my arms around him and did what I had been wanting to do since forever. I kissed him.

And it was every bit as good as I had imagined it to be.

* * *

**_Edit-__ Yeah so I added the __bits__ in that I wanted. Hope you like :)_**

**_Most of this chapter was spur of the moment. It also feels a bit rushed. Next will be more detailed... and the last._**

**_That's right- if the story decides to work with me, the next chapter will be the last one. We are nearly finished. I don't know how to feel about that._**

**_Drop a line and let me know what you think :)_**


	32. What I Did For Love

_**So here we are. The last chapter. At least i think it's the last one. I've been writing this story for so long, it feels kinda strange to be at the end. But i really appreciated all of your patience and support, and I hope you enjoy reading.**_

* * *

I kissed him. And it was every bit as good as I had imagined it to be.

In fact, it was better.

It should be noted that all kissing knowledge I had was from movies, and that I wasn't particularly inclined to copy most of it. I wasn't much of a fan of those kisses where you stuck your tongue down your partner's throat or sucked their face off. So I didn't try to inflict any poor copies of dramatic movie kisses on Quasi, who probably would've been turned off physical contact forever if I did. Instead, I cupped his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his, moving them experimentally to fit his lop-sided mouth. I felt him breathe in sharply and his face warm under my fingers, and his hands found my sides and held me lightly, as much to steady himself as to figure out what to do with them. It may not have been a movie-worthy kiss, but it was enough to send the butterflies into rampages.

"Hey, Mich, that wa-"

The voice behind me trailed off into shocked silence. I wasn't surprised. I wasn't phased, either. In fact, I didn't particularly care about anyone else just then. As the footsteps faded behind me, I pulled away and smiled shyly.

"Sorry. I've been wanting to do that for a while."

Quasi looked shaken, eyes wide and mouth open slightly, flushed to his roots. "D-don't be s-s-sorry," he stammered, and I giggled, strangely pleased at his state. Maybe I was cruel, but I did enjoy seeing him flustered.

The lateness of the hour and the excitement of everything must've caught up with me, because something compelled me to brush my fingers over the skin under his jaw and find his pulse, which was racing at a mile a minute. "Wow, excited much?" I teased, grinning deviously.

I didn't think it was possible for him to blush any more. Apparently I was wrong.

I could've gone on for a while, but it felt mean to fluster him anymore, not matter how tempting. Instead, I stepped back and grabbed his hands. "You were amazing up there. I'm so proud."

"Agreed." We looked over at Johanna, who winked at me before approaching us with open arms. I was sure she had caught the entire kiss (if the look she gave me was anything to go by) but I accepted her hug, a little less uncomfortable in the knowledge that she approved of our relationship and resulting affections. "I had no idea you were so talented! Both of you were so inspiring! The speech was a nice touch, Mich, although I'm afraid to ask what you were alluding to."

"Oh, that." I looked at Quasi, whose expression had turned serious, and sighed. "That was not a good time. Some people go too far in search for fun, and Quasi suffered for it."

"I was stupid," Quasi added softly. "I didn't listen to her. She tried to help me, and I didn't listen. It was my own fault."

"It's in the past now." I shook my head, not wanting to go into all that stuff again, and changed the subject. "What I really can't believe is that you actually agreed to get up on that stage by yourself, in front of everyone, and sing. A duet is one thing, but I definitely wouldn't have been able to do a solo."

He shrugged and smiled a little."You were there. I wasn't afraid because I knew you were there. I knew it would be ok."

I stared at him, open-mouthed, as my heart did a few somersaults. "Johanna... I think I've created a mo-" I stopped suddenly, realising the phrase was probably the worst possible choice, and tried to backtrack. "A, um, a charmer. Your cousin has become quite the smooth guy."

"So I've noticed." She looked like she was trying to suppress a laugh, but her eyes were sad. "I'm quite proud. And you know who else would be proud?"

"Who?"

She smiled a sad little smile. "Your mother."

Quasi nodded slowly, dropping his eyes to the ground, and I reached for his hand and squeezed it. We stood in silence for a moment, listening to the noise around us slowly dissipate as people filtered out of the hall to their cars, until someone cleared a throat behind us and we turned to see the girls waiting in the doorway.

"Oh." I frowned, realising that it was late and we had school the next day. Johanna probably wanted to leave, too. "I think my friends are waiting for me. I guess... I should go."

Johanna nodded. "We should get going, too."

"His bag is in the car. I'll be right back." I dropped his hand and ran to find Dez's mum, who was more than ready to leave by now. A few moments and I was back, handing over the backpack and realising that this was the start of Quasi's new life. I couldn't stop the lump from growing in my throat, despite the fact that nothing had anything to do with me anymore, so I just hugged them both and left, not wanting to drag it out any more than necessary. There would be time for that later.

Later. Which was two days away.

That was definitely not a tear I wiped away as I got into the car.

* * *

The car ride home was noisy and distracting. Dez's mum gushed about the performances and praised us for our skills, and Em and Beck chattered on about... something. Dez and I were quiet, tired out from the nerves of performing. She cleaned her clarinet, while I just curled up in the jumper I had retrieved from backstage, ready to sleep. I wasn't up for anymore social interaction that night, and though I sensed that she had questions, I was grateful that she knew not to interrogate me just then.

I got home and collapsed into my bed, desperate to find sleep and solitude from my thoughts. It took me a while, but surprisingly, I did fall asleep. My mind didn't stop, however- it just continued on into my dreams, picture flickering behind my eyes like old movie frames. I kept seeing fists and the look of terror on Quasi's face right before he was pulled back into his room. I saw violence, and fear, and anger. And then I saw music, and hope, and green. The feel of lips on mine. It made for a restless night.

When I woke the next morning, still in last night's clothes, I was exhausted. As I got ready for the day, showering and dressing and eating without much thought to what I was doing, I wondered what I was supposed to do now. All our planning, all our nerves and practicing and support... everything had payed off. It had worked. We had won. And now? What now? What was I supposed to focus on without the wolf at my heels?

How could I go back to the way I was before?

With that thought came the ever-present dread of Friday. I had less than 36 hours left before Quasi was gone forever. With everything else that had been happening of late, I don't think my heart had caught up with my mind and realised that the love of my life would disappear very soon. The clock was ticking.

Never had I wanted to get to school in such a hurry.

* * *

I lie- it wasn't school I wanted to get to. It was Quasi. When I walked through the gates that morning and realised that most of the grade twelves and half of the elevens had taken the day off, (because, hello, second-last day of school!) I didn't really want to be there either. Now, bear in mind that in my eleven years of schooling (twelve if you count pre-school) I had never in my life even thought about skipping school. It had never occurred to me at all. Knowing me and my rebellious streak as you now do, you wouldn't be surprised to hear that once it DID cross my mind, I ran with it.

"Hey Kaz, good news. You won't be needing those today," I called as I approached our lockers and nodded at the books in his arms.

"Why?"

"Because you're coming with me." I eased them out of his arms and back into the locker, then grabbed his hand and pulled him away. "Let's go."

"What... where are we going?"

"To celebrate."

Maybe that was enough for him, because he let me lead him out the gates, across the road and over the bridge towards the shopping village.

Sometimes I wondered if he would let me lead him over a cliff.

I went into the local Woollies and picked out a chocolate cake and some soft drinks, and we climbed up the embankment next to the overpass and lay on the grass, soaking up the sun. It was warm and comfortable, the air tolerably humid before the sun got too high, and I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my collar. Stretching out on the grass with a yawn, I looked over at Quasi and noticed how the sun glinted off his wavy red hair and seemed to set it on fire. I wanted to run my hands through it, but restrained myself and settled for looking. He, in turn, sat back with his legs crossed and pulled out his notebook and a pencil and started to draw.

"So, uh, what's happening now?" I asked him eventually. "What's being done about Frollo?"

"Oh..." He paused his drawing, "Th-there's going to be a t-trial today. Johanna says there's no way he won't go to jail."

"Oh, thank god. What are you going to do now?"

"Johanna's contacted some family." He took a breath. "My... family. I-I heard her mention Gladstone."

I had known this was coming for a long time, but hearing it from him felt like a blow all the same. I squeezed my eyes shut, watching the patterns the sun cast on the insides of my eyelids, and tried not to sound like I was about to cry. "S-so you are leaving."

"Yes."

"When?"

"As soon as school finishes."

"Oh," was all I could say.

He glanced at me, then went back to drawing. After a moment, he asked quietly, "Did you know this was going to happen?"

His voice was hoarse, like he was holding back tears, and I had to swallow the lump in my throat before I answered. "Yes. Well... I-I knew that you'd have to find a new place if our plan worked. I knew that it was very improbable that Johanna would find somewhere close. I've been expecting this for quite a while."

"And you still... you still helped me. You still-"

"How could I not?" I sat up, my fists digging into the grass. "You were in trouble. I couldn't let my feelings get in the way of your happiness. Th-that's just what you do... when you love someone."

He looked up, and I could see the tears swimming in his eyes. "I've never met anyone who did so much for me. Thank you."

I could feel my chin trembling, but I didn't want to be the one to break down. I turned away and stared at the shopping centre, willing myself to get it together. "I've never met anyone who made me want to do so much. You are an extraordinary person, Quasimodo."

I heard a sniff, and a whisper. "How am I going to leave?"

"You'll leave." I drew my knees up to my chest. "You'll go and start a new life on your own, make friends, figure out your way in the world. Everything is open to you now. Go and busk in the city. Go and open a crafts shop. Nothing is holding you back."

"But... how am I going to leave you?"

The tears were burning my eyes now, but I stubbornly held them back and turned to him, trying to smile. "Oh, you'll be fine without me. You'll meet other people, find someone who appreciates you. You'll be happy."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

I shook my head, too exhausted by sadness to argue. "This isn't all there is, you know. There is life beyond your house or the school or this godforsaken town. You can find it, and you can live it. Can't you do that, for me?"

He was silent, staring down at his notebook, his pencil clutched tightly in his hand. At length he glanced up, tilted his head, and uttered three words. "Tilt your head."

I frowned and did so, looking back over the carpark as I felt him study my profile. The silence stretched out as he nodded to himself and went back to drawing, and I held my pose and wondered if I could even take my own advice. Sure, there was life after Quasi, I knew that. I had been fine before I met him, and I would be fine when he left. But he had affected my life so much that the thought of never seeing him again was physically painful. I needed to find life and live it myself. I needed to get back to reality.

But it hurt.

"It's hard for me too, you know." I heard him pause, then resume drawing. "You've become a part of my life. It's going to break my heart to see you go. It already is. But I did what I had to do. You know that, right? I couldn't have just left things the way they were. I don't regret what I-" I stopped, laughed, and sang the last few words. "-what I did for love!" He looked at me- I could feel his quizzical stare without seeing it- and I shook my head. "It's a song from a musical. About dancing. But it could apply here too."

"Could you... sing it?"

I wrinkled my nose. "I don't really sound great on my own. And it's a very... operatic song."

"Please?"

Who could resist such a request? I sighed and shrugged. "Alright, if you want."

"I-It's just... it might be the last time."

He was right. This probably was my last chance to sing to him, and while I didn't really want to sing by myself, he had made a valid request. And it wasn't like he would judge me on my voice. So I cleared my throat and breathed deeply, and started the song.

"Kiss today goodbye,  
The sweetness and the sorrow.  
Wish me luck, the same to you.  
But I can't regret  
What I did for love, what I did for love..."

He put down his pencil to watch me, and I turned to face him, smiling a little as I sang to him, hoping the tears in my eyes wouldn't affect my voice.

"Look my eyes are dry..."

"Liar," he whispered, studying my face, and I sniffed, my voice wavering a little.

"The gift was ours to borrow.  
It's as if we always knew,  
And I won't forget what I did for love,  
What I did for love.

Gone,  
Love is never gone.  
As we travel on,  
Love's what we'll remember."

I reached for his hand, and he took mine, blinking away his own tears.

"Kiss today goodbye,  
And point me t'ward tomorrow.  
We did what we had to do.  
Won't forget, can't regret  
What I did for  
Love."

Here I stopped, unable to sing through the huge lump in my throat. Quasi squeezed my hand, and I chuckled dryly, wiping my eyes. "Look at us. This is ridiculous. You're not even leaving yet and we can't keep it together."

"I just... don't want to go."

"Neither do I. But you gotta. So that's it." I pulled away and reached for the cake. "While we're here, let's drown our sorrows in chocolate cake. The least it can do is send us on a sugar high."

So that's what we did. We ate half a cake and drank a few bottles of soft drink, and relaxed on the grass. As far as rebellion went, I'd say it was the nicest illegal day out I'd ever been on. Not that I had been on many. But still.

I timed our exit five minutes before the home bell rang, giving us just enough time to get to school and be picked up. And it may have been the sugar, but I was surprisingly fine about the fact that we now had exactly 24 hours before Quasi left forever.

* * *

That afternoon, I was helping Angie with a last minute maths assignment, trying to explain a rule that I barely understood myself. She was hoping to get into an advanced class in the next year, and for some reason thought that because I was older, I would be able to help her with it. I had laughed and laughed when she suggested it, but despite my below average abilities I was trying my best to figure it out for her. We were halfway through a problem when she decided to raise a startling question.

"Mich, are you in love with someone?"

My heart gave a great jump, but I managed to remain calm. "What? Why would you ask that?"

She shrugged. "You're always distracted or in a hurry. You sing a lot more, and you look stressed and jumpy. I wouldn't usually see that as love symptoms, but you're weird, so things are different with you."

My jaw dropped. "Weird? You think that because I'm a bit stressed, that means I'm in love, because I'm weird?"

"You've changed. Something's changed you. It cant be anything else, because you don't care about anything. It has to be a person."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

She grinned, twirling her pencil with her long, thin fingers. "It's that ugly boy, isn't it? Kasi-something?"

"His name is Quasimodo. And he's not ugly."

"I knew it!"

"Oh, shut up."

"You couldn't have fallen in love with a normal person. That's not how you roll. It had to be the weirdest, most unlikely person in the whole school. Why am I not surprised?"

I didn't want to hear any more. It was bad enough that he was leaving and I would probably never see him again, but now sister was teasing me about him. Well, screw that. I rolled off the bed and headed out the door, ignoring her laughing apologies and appeals to return, and stomped into the kitchen to practice my ritual of staring into the cupboard without the intention of taking anything.

"There's nothing new in there today. I'm not shopping till tomorrow." Mum poured herself a glass of water and eyed me over the top. "I thought you were helping Angie."

"She's annoying me."

"Ah. Nothing new there either." She waited a beat while I pulled out the almost-empty Nutella jar, thought better of it and put it back. "Mich, are you alright?"

"Actually, I'm half left." I closed the cupboard and moved on to the fridge. Hmm, mandarins...

"Is everything going ok at school?"

"It's nearly over, mum. What could possibly be going on?" I picked up a half-empty dip and a packet of carrots and kicked the fridge shut.

She finished her water and leaned against the bench, watching as I got out a cutting board and knife. "I don't know. You don't talk much anymore. You seem kind of... distant. Is there something bothering you? You know you can to me with anything, right?"

"I know." I started on the carrots, chopping off the ends and cutting them in half. "I'm sorry. Everything's been very hectic lately, but after tomorrow it'll be gone. Don't worry. I'm fine."

"Do you want it talk about whatever's been bothering you?"

"God, mum, can you give it a rest?" I bit my lip, knowing without seeing that she was hurt. "I'm sorry. I just don't wanna talk about it, ok? It's not important."

She nodded, frowning a little. "Alright. I know it's hard. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Just realise that you're young, and it take a while to figure this romance stuff out."

I stilled my knife, casting her a sidelong glance as she started to walk away. "What? Who said anything about romance?"

She smiled at me over her shoulder. "I was teenager too, a few hundred years ago. I'm not completely stupid."

I sighed. Of course everyone would've been able to see through my protective layer. I should've known by now that I was pretty transparent to the people who knew me best. My mother only wanted to help- why keep her in the dark trying to hide something she already guessed at?

"He's leaving." The words were out before I could stop them. I cleared my throat as she turned and nodded, motioning for me to continue. "My... friend. He's moving to Gladstone tomorrow. I'm never going to see him again. I'm happy for him- it means a better life. I can't begrudge him that. But it's hard."

"And does this friend know how you feel about him?"

"Yes."

"And does he return it?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I smiled a little. "It's out of my control. It was nice while it lasted, but now it has to end. I've reconciled myself to that." Mum smiled a mushy kind of smile at me, a tender look in her eyes, and I scowled. "What? Stop it. Why are you giving me that look?"

"Because you're all grown up, and I don't know how I missed it."

"You're such a cheese, mum."

"You love me."

"Yes I do. But you're still a cheese."

She laughed and left me to my carrots, which I no longer felt like eating. Annoyed, I wrapped them in a plastic bag and returned them to the fridge, and glanced at the clock.

I totally wasn't counting the minutes.

* * *

Friday dawned hot and sunny and obnoxiously bright. As I threw the sheets off me and groaned at the thought of a beautiful Australian summer, I felt like the walls were closing in on me. It was only morning, and already the air felt like I could swim in it. Was it even worth getting up? Just the idea of spending a day like this at school was horrifying.

Except... It was Quasi's last day.

Of course it was worth it.

I dragged myself around the house, loudly complaining to anyone who would listen that I was going move to Canada or die from the heat. I was largely ignored, as this was something I did every summer and they were all used to it. But Rose did ask if she could live with me, and then Katie told me solemnly that she would visit me when she was married to Dez's brother Richie. That put me in a slightly better mood, leaving Angie and Del to complain about still having two more weeks of school left and that it wasn't fair that seniors got to finish early.

Honestly, I would've been ok with having two more weeks of school if I knew Quasi would be there.

And there went my good mood.

I got to school without much of a hassle, and melted as soon as I got out of the car. I was so glad I wasn't wearing makeup that day.

School was... school. It was almost like a normal day, except there was less schoolwork and more Year Twelves crying. We handed in the last of our catch-up work and helped pack up books and things that wouldn't be used for another eight weeks. Most classes were free periods, so things got a little hectic. I hung out with Em or Quasi, depending on the class, and stayed out of everyone's way. Things were going ok.

Until second break, that is.

I met Quasi at our lockers. We got our food, started heading for the cafeteria. As we passed the doors leading outside, however, we were suddenly pulled away by some familiar faces- Esme's former followers, our new friends who shared their lunch table with us sometimes. They dragged us outside, chattering excitedly and all at once.

"Wait, you can't go yet!"

"Hang on, we have to show you something."

"Come this way."

We followed them, no idea of what was to come. They led us to the clump of trees outside the music room and told us to wait, so we did. A few others had started to gather too. Well, I say a few, but I really mean about 20. They talked among themselves, wondering why they were here, and I realised our friends were amassing a crowd. For what? I was starting to worry, but I couldn't for the life of me think of what they could be doing.

I think it hit me when I saw the girl on the roof. She was carrying a bucket, and wearing the broadest grin I had ever seen. And as I looked around and caught sight of Esme Azarola heading towards our gathering with another of group, I flashed back to that lunchtime when I had told them that under no circumstances were they to get revenge on Esme, because we didn't want to sink to her level. Those non-committal shrugs and sly looks that hadn't instilled me with any kind of confidence.

Oh god no.

I grabbed Quasi's arm and tried to call a warning, but the words stuck in my throat. There was a hush as Esme passed under the roof and the bucket tipped. Green slime poured like a shiny ribbon though the air and splashed onto her, coating her perfect curly hair and dripping over her clothes.

The worst thing was her scream. It was shrill, frightened, when the slime first touched her, but as it spread all over her, it ended on an angry note. There was silence as she stumbled away from the roof and tripped on those stupid heeled shoes she still wore, landing on the grass with a thump. Then the laughter started. The crowd around me broke out into raucous laughter, making fun of the girl who had finally got what she deserved. I found myself chuckling at it too, before realising that this was exactly what I hadn't wanted. Six months ago this would've been a dream come true for me, to finally see the bitch get a taste of her own medicine. But things had changed. Revenge wasn't sweet. I didn't like this at all.

Next to me, Quasi was silent, but his eyes betrayed his disapproval. He had never wanted revenge, only some peace. I guess I wanted to the same. And suddenly, I knew exactly what to do.

I pushed my way through the crowd and approached the girl on the ground. She looked absolutely ridiculous, covered in slime and grass and leaves, her hair dripping green around her face. I felt sorry for her, for what this meant for her- this was her last day, and she was being humiliated in front of everyone. This was how she would be remembered. Not as the beautiful girl who ruled the school with an iron fist, but as the girl lying in the dirt with green slime on her face. The pathetic bully who was brought down by a bunch of freaks. One of which was me.

I gulped and held out my hand.

She looked up, and the horror and fear in her eyes turned to hatred.

She took my hand and I pulled her up.

And she punched me in the face.

I stumbled back, my face on fire. Everything was wet- my eyes with tears, and my nose with blood. And it hurt- God did it hurt. I thought I was dying until I realised she was screaming at me. And everyone else was yelling. Some chanted 'fight, fight, fight!' while others were gathered around me, asking if I was ok, if I needed the nurse, if I needed ice, if my nose was broken. Still others were gathered around Esme, holding her back and telling her to calm down.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" she screamed at them, then addressed me. "You've ruined my life, you little bitch! I hope you're happy now."

She said a few more things that I don't think are worth repeating. Sufficed to say, she hated my guts.

Soon enough, an ice pack and some tissues appeared. I cleaned myself up as well as I could and held the ice pack to my face, wondering if something really was broken and cursing the genius who thought the prank was a good idea.

Maybe you should be cursing the genius who thought helping her was a good idea.

Oh shove off.

Then Quasi was there, grabbing my free hand and asking if I was alright, and hands were on my shoulders leading me away. Most of the noise faded as we headed back towards the office, and I heard the teacher who was steering me say that I would be fine, I just needed to get to sickbay and let the nurse take a look, and why was I fighting on the last day of school?

"I'm ok," I kept saying. "I'm ok."

And I was. She didn't really punch my nose. She got my cheek, mostly, and knocked my nose on the way. I wasn't hard to do, given it's size, and I was surprised she missed it. I suppose anger clouds the mind. The slime in her eyes probably didn't help either.

So there was most of lunchtime gone. I was fine after about half an hour, my face tender but not so much that I couldn't eat or talk. I spent a quiet English class writing fan fiction and trying to explain it to a random girl who liked reality TV. What fun.

And then the home bell rang.

Quasi and I met at the lockers again. He spent about five minutes making sure that I was ok, which doesn't sound long but it really is when you have to keep reassuring someone that your face isn't broken. When we'd established that I wasn't going to die, we packed all of our stuff into our bags and carried what wouldn't fit. As I dragged my feet out the door, a heavy feeling settled in my chest that managed to take my mind off my face. This was it. This was the end of everything.

We tried to drag time out, but all too soon we were at the carpark, and Johanna's car was waiting. She waved at us from her seat, but didn't seem in too much of a hurry. We stood there for a moment, staring at each other, unsure of how to say goodbye, until Quasi remembered something and pulled his journal out of his bag.

"Here. I-I want you to have this."

I took it from him, carefully brushing my fingers over the worn cover. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I zipped it into a pocket in my bag. Then I dropped my books and bag and threw my arms around him, pulling him close. He dropped everything and wrapped his strong arms around me, holding me tight.

I didn't want to let go. I didn't want him to leave. I had been through this scenario in my head hundreds of times, tried to figure out how I would act when the time came, but I could never have imagined that way I felt just then. My heart was breaking in a million little pieces. My chest physically hurt, a different kind of hurt to getting punched in the face. This was like someone had lit a fire inside me. Like something deep inside was splitting open.

I buried my face in his shoulder as he held me tightly. All I could think about that that I needed him. I needed his arms around me, needed him to hold me and whisper that we'd find a way to be together. But that was stupid. I had always known that. It was stupid to think we had a chance of seeing each other again, and it was stupid to torture myself with pointless wishing. But I wasn't strong enough to leave. I didn't want to to let go of him. I wanted to keep him here and tell him how much I loved him, how beautiful he was, how everything was better when he was around and how he was the only person I cared about in the world. But my throat was thick and aching and my tears were blurring my eyes so much I couldn't see. I was terrified and useless and so, so sad.

I shifted my head and let out a sob. Quasi held me tight for a few moments more until finally his arms gave me a light squeeze. I knew what that meant, so I looked up at him one last time before I let go. His cheeks were wet, and his beautiful lips turned up at the corners in a sad smile before I watched him turn and walk away.

I stood there long after he had gotten into the car and Johanna had driven away, waving. The car disappeared into traffic and was gone, and I turned and picked up my things, rubbing my eyes. Heading towards my mother's car, I didn't even trying to fake a smile when she asked me how my day was.

"Fine," I said blankly, crossing my arms as I settled into my seat. All I could feel was absence, the emptiness where a body used to be in my arms. "I'm just fine."

* * *

I'd like to say that I went home and sighed a bit, shed a tear or two and got on with my life. That's what I'd like to say, but it couldn't be further from the truth. I didn't even cry myself to sleep, because I didn't end up sleeping that night. But I cried. Oh, how I cried. I tried to keep it down so that I wouldn't disturb my roommate with my ugly weeping, but I'm pretty sure she woke up sometime around midnight.

Finally, when my tears had run out and my eyes and throat ached like I had been through a fire, I wandered out into the living room with a certain notebook and settled down to read. There I stayed until the morning, flicking through pages of doodles and artwork and scrawled poetry and lyrics. A few sheets of paper were folded among the pages- the sketches of his mother and me, and some new ones that I recognized as the photos his mother had left for him, copied down just for me. At the back of the book was a picture- the picture he had drawn the day before. I was sitting on the grass, hugging my knees and gazing into the distance. It wasn't a particularly beautiful or elegant drawing of me, but he had managed to put his own flavour into it. I saw myself through his eyes, and if I had had any energy or tears left, I probably would've cried again.

I got up sometime before sunrise to make myself a coffee- just instant, as the machine would've woken everybody up- and snuck out the back door with my mug and my blanket to sit outside. The grass was dry and the air was cool, and I breathed in deeply, taking in the freshness of the morning. Somewhere above me, a bird started to chirp, and then another and another. The sky was lightening and a breeze was starting to blow; I wrapped myself in my blanket and sipped my coffee, feeling a little less dead.

Somewhere in the east, the sun was rising. I watched the colours change around me and knew that i was going to be ok. I was sad and broken-hearted, but it wouldn't kill me.

Quasi was unexpected. I truly had not expected him, his effect on my mind and feelings. He had slipped into the cracks in my heart like a shadow and lodged there quietly. He was the calming sound of the light pitter-patter of drizzle on a summer night in my boring, ordinary life. Barely discernible, but always there. I had fought to establish a special friendship, and tried to ignore it when it turned into something more. I had almost missed something so precious. And now, even though it felt like half of me was gone, I knew I had done the right thing. Because of me, Quasi would have a better life. That was something to be proud of. And that other half of me would grow back, and I would be stronger for it.

I sighed and closed my eyes, cradling my mug and feeling the early morning breeze on my face. And I knew that everything was going to be ok.

* * *

_**I didn't expect it to be this long. I actually wanted to add more, but it didn't really fit.**_

_**So, its over. To all those who stuck with me through this ridiculous story:**_

_**kamikaze-djali**_

_**sticksbranchesroots**_

_**Antikreativ**_

_**karisdaae24601**_

_**Snakespur**_

_**palpablefantasy**_

_**Tineyboppa**_

_**Sarah**_

_**Darkfire333**_

_**rapunzel101**_

_**Doctor Pot8osoup**_

_**Reviewer**_

_**ChibiFelicia**_

_**Mrs. Gold**_

_**Dancinconverse **_

_**Anony mouse101 **_

_**Guest**_

_**and all the reviews I lost when I re-wrote the story. Thank you all for your continued support and reviews and I hope you enjoyed reading this. I've certainly enjoyed entertaining you.**_

_**Eventually, I will write a sequel or two. I feel there is more to be told about these characters, and I've plotted out some things I'd like to write. I can't say when I'll start, but I'm definitely going to get into it.**_

_**Thank you again. See you later! **_


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